


your hand on my seared flesh, my love on your lips

by thesecretdetectivecollection



Series: for i would gladly burn to spare you [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Chris Pike is not dead because I refuse to put Jim and myself through that, M/M, but also... navigating a new relationship, dealing with physical and psychological trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 01:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdetectivecollection/pseuds/thesecretdetectivecollection
Summary: After the disastrous away mission, Leonard's determined to look after every single member of his crew, and that means getting them all to therapy. Meanwhile, he and Jim are navigating a new relationship, and Leonard's steadily resisting pressure to seek treatment for his own trauma.





	your hand on my seared flesh, my love on your lips

Leonard loves every single person that was on his makeshift crew, but not a single one of them is capable of voluntarily getting their ass down to the therapist’s office for the first of their ten mandated counseling sessions.  
  
So he visits them, one at a time. Chang and Segal are pretty easy, they just need a reminder that they won’t be eligible to return to full duty without it.  
  
Nyota is next on his list. He sits her down and talks to her about it over coffee. Well, Nyota has coffee. Leonard’s still a little wary of hot drinks, always worried that his hands will give up on him—he’s seen the burns that hot liquids can leave behind, and he’s not eager to experience them on his thighs or—heaven forbid—on his _dick_.  
  
So he sips at a glass of fruit juice, and tries patiently to get Nyota to agree to counseling.  
  
“Ny, this is just standard procedure, you know that. You do a spectacular job on the bridge, but if you ever want to get back to full duty, you’ll need to finish these counseling sessions,” he says seriously.  
  
Uhura doesn’t meet his eyes for a long moment. “I don’t know if I ever want to leave the ship again,” she admits finally.  
  
Leonard sympathizes profoundly, and he lays one of his hands over hers, squeezing ever so slightly. That’s about when he realizes what that might look like, to a certain Vulcan, and quickly adjusts so his hand is over her wrist instead. “We need to heal, Nyota. And we can’t heal fully unless we talk about our experience. Now, we need to get you into a session. How can we make that as easy for you as possible?”  
  
They talk it over, and it’s decided that she’ll always have a day off after her sessions so she can recover.  
  
“Do you want someone to come with you? I’d be happy to sit in until you’re comfortable with Dr. Dehner yourself. Or I’m sure Spock would also be happy to do that—“  
  
“No. I don’t want him there. He doesn’t need to know everything that happened. Or how badly it’s affected me.”  
  
Leonard nods. “How about I talk to him and suggest date nights for afterwards? Maybe spending some time with him after your sessions can be a good reward for going and then you can be away from other people, too. Does that sound good?”  
  
Nyota nods, looking resigned to her fate more than happy about it. “Thank you, Ny. And my offer of going with you to sessions stands, if you ever think you need some more support during the session.”  
  
“I might take you up on that one, actually. At least for the first one or two.”  
  
“Just name the time, and I’ll make sure I’m available to be there.”  
  
Nyota finishes off her coffee and stands up, wrapping her arms around Leonard and holding him tight for a few seconds.  
  
“Thank you, Captain,” she says, the title that Jim had struggled to hear from her for a year after he earned it, given freely to Leonard.  
  
“Mutiny on my ship?” Asks Jim playfully, joining them as they stand in front of the table. Nyota just grins and kisses Leonard on the cheek. “I’ll leave you two alone, then.”  
  
And she does. Leonard watches how her long, elegant ponytail waves gently from side to side as she walks.  
  
“Should Spock and I be worried?” Jim’s still playful, but Leonard’s fully aware that he probably looked at Nyota’s retreating form for a few seconds too long.  
  
“No, you idiot, of course not,” he says gruffly, “I had to speak to her about something private.”  
  
Jim’s on the list to attend counseling too, but he’s near the end of Leonard’s personal list. Chances are he’ll lie through his teeth to the therapist the whole time-he’s certainly gone through enough psych evaluations to know what they want to hear from him. In any case, the circumstances are all wrong. Jim might shoot him out of an airlock for bringing up a conversation this personal in the mess hall like this.  
  
So he distracts him, asking about their plans to return to Earth.

“We’ll get back there by the end of the week, I’m guessing. We need to stop at Denobrian IV—there are some engineering parts Scotty needs to soup up the warp drive, he says, and that’ll get us home faster. Plus the increase in speed makes up for the time we spend there, so I said it was fine. Well, Spock said it was fine, after he unofficially asked me. Since I’m still off-duty for a few more days.”

Leonard nods, distracted as he sees Chekov sitting with Sulu, talking animatedly about something. There’s a faint scar on his forehead, where the dermal regen couldn’t get all the evidence of the cut in one session.

“Bones? You with me?”

Leonard turns back to Jim. “Every night, sugar,” he says, letting his voice drawl a little more than usual.

Jim blushes instantly, because it’s still new enough between them that Jim blushes when Leonard flirts, especially out in public like this.

“Only at night?” he asks playfully, “because we could go back to my quarters right now—“

Leonard grins. “Well, in space, it kind of feels like it’s always night, doesn’t it?”

It’s a weak answer, when they’re all so accustomed to the rhythms of the shifts, almost as much as if they were actually still on Earth with the sun dictating their sleep schedules. But Jim lights up and swipes Leonard’s cup of juice, downing the rest of it in one long gulp.

He rises to his feet, and Leonard’s following him without a word, though he does stop by Chekov and Sulu’s table to say hello to them and ruffle Chekov’s hair affectionately. Jim stops a few steps later, sensing that Leonard’s not behind him anymore.

“Hiya, Pasha,” Leonard says warmly, “comm me sometime, okay? I thought we could get some coffee or something and you could teach me more Russian to impress your grandma.”

Chekov flushes a bright pink and stammers out an affirmative. Leonard smiles at him and nods at Sulu before stepping towards Jim.

Jim waits until they’re finally in his quarters with the door closed to pull Leonard into a kiss.

“You shouldn’t do that, you know,” he says with a little smile.

“Do what? Kiss you? Because I was under the impression that we were both enjoying ourselves—“

“Flirt with Pasha. He has a massive crush on you, and that isn’t going to help him get over it.”

Leonard rolls his eyes. “Just because you’re interested in me doesn’t mean everyone else is, Jim. I like Pasha, I wanted to hang out. If anything, he’s just shy because I’m the one who gave him the sex talk when he turned eighteen.”

“You did what?! I did not see that in his records—“

Leonard shrugs. “Oops,” he says lightly, “I guess I must’ve forgotten to include it in the notes. You don’t need to know everything, Jim, and neither does Starfleet HQ.”

Jim opens his mouth, but closes it again, as though he’s not quite sure what he can say to counter that. “I’m not HQ,” he says finally.

Leonard just gives him a look. “In what situation would be important for you you to know that I gave Chekov the Talk?”

“Well, if I tried to give him the Talk later!”

Leonard laughs. “Oh Jim, I love the hell out of you, but there’s no fuckin’ way you’ve ever even thought about giving Chekov the talk until I just told you I did it.”

Jim pouts, but it barely lasts a few seconds before it melts away into a smile. “Okay, stop being nice, it turns me on,” he teases, giving Leonard another kiss before they sat down on the sofa.

“It turns you on, so I should stop doing it? Well, this relationship definitely isn’t going the way I imagined it would!”

Jim laughs. It’s such a wonderful sound, Jim’s laugh, especially the softer, sweeter one he gets out of him when it’s just the two of them together.

Leonard turns and presses his nose against Jim’s neck, inhaling to catch the scent of him. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of aftershave. His mind takes him back to a cold cell, with his arms wrapped around Jim and their backs against cold, filthy stone instead of soft cushions. He remembers the way Jim had smelled of sweat and vomit. Then again, maybe that was Leonard smelling himself, or the putrid bucket they used as a latrine that had sat in the corner.

“Come back to me,” Jim whispers to him, and Leonard opens his eyes. He looks at Jim’s face for a moment, clean and whole instead of dirty and marred with bruises and cuts.

He rises to his feet and mutters something about the bathroom, walking off before Jim can say anything. He turns the faucet on full blast and kneels in front of the toilet, retching until the fruit juice he’d just had comes right back up, watered down with bile. He wipes his mouth and flushes before getting up.

He looks at himself in the mirror and reminds himself that he is alive. He is alive, and that is something to be grateful for. He remembers the times he had begged for release. He remembers when it was hard to believe in release, when he had begged for death instead, because he thought it was all he could hope for.

He splashes cold water on his face, and looks at his reflection once more, until he looks put together and not at all like he’s just had his head in a toilet bowl. He takes a swig of mouthwash and swallows it down, realizing almost immediately that it might be a mistake to put something else into his rebellious stomach. But he doesn’t feel the need to throw up again, and he opens the door to leave.

Jim’s right outside the door, staring at it as it opens and his eyes meet Leonard’s. “You good, Bones?”

Leonard nods and smiles easily.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“I’m—I don’t think I’m in the mood for sex right now, Jim. I might just head back to my quarters and rest—“

“You could stay here and rest, if you wanted to.” There’s a strange vulnerability in Jim’s voice, and Leonard can’t stand the idea that he could reward that show of bravery with a refusal, so he agrees.

He strips out of his clothes briskly and opens Jim’s drawers one by one until he finds the pajamas and steals one set to wear. The t-shirt is a little tight on him, stretched across his chest, but the sweats fit him well enough.

Jim follows his lead and they lie down together.

“You know, it’s stupid how hot you look in my clothes,” Jim says to him quietly, intertwining their fingers.

This isn’t the first time they’ve shared a bed. But it is the first time that they’ve both been sober enough and awake enough to talk for awhile before falling asleep.

He wouldn’t trade a single second of it for anything in the world.

  
\---

  
Jim had been using one of his arms as a pillow. He wakes up with his hand numb and promptly flies into a panic as Jim blearily blinks awake.  
  
“I need to go see Geoff,” Leonard mutters, shoving his feet into his boots and not bothering to change out of his borrowed pajamas. If he was even slightly more awake or more sane or more _something_, he would have realized that wandering around in the Captain’s pajamas when their relationship was so new and supposedly private was probably a less than brilliant idea.

But he isn’t more awake or more sane or more anything, other than more scared.  
  
Jim opens his mouth to say something, but Leonard hears the door swish closed behind him before he gets a single word out. The walk is long, from Jim’s quarters to medbay, but not as long as usual, as Leonard walks quickly. By the time he’s in the right hallway, he’s starting to jog, unable to keep the panic down enough to stay calm.  
  
“Chapel! M’Benga?” He calls as he finally gets into the medbay.  
  
M’Benga is there, sitting at a desk doing paperwork, but he shoots up when he hears Leonard’s voice, that edge of panic in it that somehow never seems to lead to good things.  
  
“What’s wrong, Leonard?”  
  
“My hand! My hand, I can’t feel it,” Leonard says, and now that he’s verbalized it, he’s nearly sobbing, right hand clutching his useless left.  
  
“What happened? Any trauma? Falling on it, slept funny, lack of circulation?”  
  
Leonard calms down and blanches, thinking about Jim’s head on his arm, pinching off blood vessels and cutting off his circulation. Of fucking _course_ he was numb. “Slept funny, I guess,” he says slowly, “Woke up and it was numb. Scared the fuck out of me.”  
  
Geoff looks less hypervigilent and more sympathetic. “Do you want a sleep aid? Were you dreaming?” He asks gently.  
  
Leonard shakes his head no. “Sorry to bother you,” he says woodenly, “I’m being a fucking idiot.”  
  
Geoff rolls his eyes. “You’re being a normal human being in the aftermath of severe physical and mental trauma, Leonard. Speaking of which, I really do think you should go see Dehner tomorrow.”  
  
“Not tomorrow. I’m not ready yet. I want to work through my physical recovery first.” The words come easily, because it isn’t the first time he’s said them. It’s the same response he gives verbatim every time someone from Medical tries to encourage him to go see the psychologist.  
  
It’s either that or some weak joke about “physician, heal thyself,” but nobody had found that funny, least of all him, so he’d stopped.  
  
He turns around and heads back to his quarters, running into Jim in the corridor outside of medbay.  
  
“Sorry,” Leonard mutters, not quite able to meet his eyes.  
  
If he had, he would’ve seen the panic receding somewhat. “You had me worried.” Jim’s voice is different, now that they’re together. There’s so much tenderness in it, so much that had been buried before, under layers of friendship and humor.  
  
“I didn’t mean to. I just—freaked out. Couldn’t feel my hand when I woke up.” He can feel his cheeks heating up, and the more he thinks about it, the worse it feels, the stupider _he_ feels, standing out in the hallway with sleeping pants and boots.  
  
“Come back to bed, Bones. Please. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—I won’t sleep on your arm again.”  
  
Leonard doesn’t want to take the chance. He does and he doesn’t at the same time.  
  
“Can we sit on the sofa instead? Maybe watch a holo?”  
  
Jim nods, reaching out before aborting the motion to run his hand through his hair instead, the shift not quite smooth enough to fool Leonard.  
  
He wants to hold Jim’s hand, he really, truly does, but he also never wants anything to touch his hands ever again. They feel so fragile, like a draft could shatter them all over again, and there are times when he just can’t tolerate touching things unless he absolutely has to.  
  
He smiles at Jim and ignores the way it feels painted on, and they both go back to his quarters.  
  
Jim sits on the sofa and sinks into it, head in his hands. “I want to go back there and kill them with my bare hands for what they did to you.”  
  
Leonard flinches at the expression. “I wouldn’t. They were good at dealing with hands and I wouldn’t want you to be useless like me.”  
  
Jim just looks more heartbroken after that. “You’re not useless,” he says in a firm, low voice.  
  
“Yeah? Tell me what use a surgeon is when his hands shake, then. I’m probably going to be tossed off this ship, and then who’s going to patch you up when you need it?”  
  
“That isn’t going to happen, Bones. I won’t let it.”  
  
Leonard lets out a bitter little laugh. It all feels so stupid, all of a sudden, Jim acting as if the universe will bend to his will yet again.  
  
“Can we just watch something stupid and funny and can you just—can you just hold me, please?”  
  
Jim nods and one arm wraps around Leonard’s back, pressed against the thick, raised scars from the whip that didn’t quite go away, no matter how many treatments he had with the regen.  
  
Leonard drifts off like that, and when he wakes up, he has a godawful crick in his neck, but Jim has kept to his promise and stayed well away from his hands. He looks at the stupid, useless things at the ends of his arms and his eyes start to fill with tears, as stupid as that makes him feel.  
  
His hands are just—they’re everything. It’s not just his work—though the moniker _steadiest hands on the ship_ runs though his head on repeat, turned from a compliment and a recognition of his skills to a cruel mockery of what he’s lost.  
  
It’s not just that he looks at his hands and can’t help but envision the damage he would do if he tried to operate, the lives he would take in his blind arrogance, continuing on as if he wasn’t fundamentally different than he had been before. Fundamentally _lesser_ than he had been before.  
  
That’s one of his recurring nightmares, when he’s granted a reprieve from the torture chamber. He’s in the OR, a body under his bloody, gloved hands that he knows belongs to someone he cares about—usually Jim, sometimes sweet, innocent Pasha. His hands are shaking and Chapel looks horrified, and he keeps insisting that everything’s okay, even as his patient flatlines, even as he fumbles the defibrillators, even as he watches a sheet drape over blond hair and beautiful blue eyes.

  
But of course, it’s not just that. It’s his research—research he can hardly do now that he can’t so much as hold a pipet steady. A lot of it can be automated, that much is true, but there can be no precision in lab work without fine motor control, and his has been completely demolished.  
  
He wonders if they’ll have to resort to some sort of neural regeneration, because no matter how far science has advanced, the human body still doesn’t fix nerves that are as mangled as the ones in his hands all on its own.  
  
He falls asleep on the sofa, which would have been a minor miracle for the Leonard McCoy before the away mission, but was becoming alarmingly common for the shell of a man he’d been since he got back. At first it had just seemed like healing. Regens accelerated the time frame, but healing still took its toll, and it was metabolically taxing to create new cells and knit them all together.

But now, some four weeks out from their return, Leonard has a sneaking suspicion that it’s depression, or something like it. He can’t do anything the way he used to, so he prefers to sleep. He takes long naps during the day, and still manages to sleep through the night. He doesn’t get invited to meetings anymore, since he’s not officially CMO, but if he did, he’d probably fall asleep there, too.

Yet another reason to avoid Dehner for awhile longer. He’s got a PhD in psychology, same as her, so he can probably fix himself anyway.

He wakes to a call on his comm from Chekov.

“Lights,” he orders, as he accepts the call and blinks at the sudden influx of light. “Eighty percent,” he adds a moment later, dimming the lights enough that it’s not such a sensory assault for him, but Chekov will still be able to see him.

“Hi, Leonard!” he chirps, “you said I should comm you, so I did—oh, were you sleeping?”

“Yeah, just taking a nap, but it’s okay, Pasha, I’m glad you called,” Leonard says, and he means every single word.

“I can call back later, Doktor, if you are tired?”

Leonard shakes his head. “No, no, I’m glad you woke me, otherwise I wouldn’t have slept all night, and that would be a whole different mess. Now, I wanted to have a chat with you, just catch up a little, see how you’re doing. Can I come to your quarters?”

Chekov’s looking a little flushed again, and maybe that was a bit direct, inviting himself over to visit the boy’s room. “Or we can go to the mess, Pasha, if you’d rather do that,” he offers, “or a rec room. Or my quarters, even. Doesn’t have to be yours.”

“Mine are fine. Please, come whenever you’re ready.” Pavel is so earnest, so innocent, it makes Leonard’s heart ache for a moment.

“Give me fifteen minutes to freshen up, and I’ll be right there,” Leonard promises. He hangs up and realizes that he’s not even in his own quarters. He leaves Jim’s quarters in his clothes from the night before, which Jim had thoughtfully folded up at some point. Still, they’re wrinkled, probably from at least a night on the floor, and he feels a bit self-conscious as he walks quickly over to his own quarters. He lets himself in and hops into the sonic for a shower before he changes. He brushes his teeth, too, trying to disguise himself as a healthy, normal human being before he meets Chekov.

He does a passable job and he grabs a pack of cards on a whim, bringing it with him in case Pavel wants to play.

Pavel does want to play. At least, Leonard thinks he does. He’s not quite sure, but there’s a chance that Pavel would agree to anything that Leonard suggested, which is a little terrifying. They play a few rounds, chatting easily about things.

“Pasha,” Leonard says quietly, covering the young man’s hand as he reaches for a card from the deck, “the reason I came over is that I wanted to say something. And I wanted it to be in private, because I know this might be difficult.”

Pasha freezes, but doesn’t pull his hand away. Leonard knows he has his full attention. “Vat did you vant to ask?” he asks nervously.

“How are you doing? Since we got back, I mean. Have you been coping okay? Eating and sleeping alright? Any nightmares?”

Chekov looks down, and Leonard follows his gaze down to where their hands are still touching. He strokes his thumb gently over the soft skin.

“I haf dreams,” Chekov admits, “ve do not get rescued. Or ve do, but not all of us make it. You die, or the keptin dies, or both of you die, and then I feel—eet becomes my job, to protect them all, and I can’t do it. Not vithout you and ze keptin.”

Leonard gets up and walks around before kneeling at Chekov’s feet. “We all made it,” he says quietly, squeezing Chekov’s hands and trying not to fixate on the fact that his own are trembling. “We’re okay, Pasha, we all made it back.”

Pavel swallows once, twice, and gets off his chair, sitting on the ground next to Leonard. He throws his arms around him, and Leonard holds him while he cries.

“This is why I wanted to come see you,” Leonard whispers, stroking the soft golden curls, “I wanted to make sure you weren’t hurting alone.”

Pasha mumbles something that Leonard can’t make out and probably wouldn’t understand even if he could make it out.

“You’re alright, son, you’re alright.”

Pavel calms down after a few minutes and pulls away from him. “I am sorry,” he says softly.

Leonard shakes his head, reaching out to wipe the damp cheeks. “I’m only sorry that you were put through that, Pasha. I came here to check on you. But I also came to ask you to go see Dr. Dehner. Do you know who she is?”

“The shrink,” Pavel mutters, “that is what Hikaru and the keptin call her.”

Leonard nods. “She’s a clinical psychologist. A therapist. I’ve mandated a few counseling sessions for each of us that was there. I talked to Nyota about it a couple of nights ago. And I wanted to see if I could make it easier for you somehow. I’m going with Nyota for one or two of her sessions. I can do the same for you, Pasha, if you’re nervous about it.”

“I don’t want to be kicked out of Starfleet. They already look for a reason, because of my age,” Pavel says quietly, “they think I am not mature enough. Too naïve.”

“They’re not kicking you out, not while I’m still here. But we need to make sure you’re recovering the best you can, that’s all. And I promise, if it comes to it, you’ll have the whole command crew standing up for you to stay, and only an idiot would stand in our way when we want something, right?”

Pasha smiles, ever so slightly. “Would you like to see holo of my family?” he offers.

Leonard says yes, and he stays in Pavel’s quarters for another hour and a half examining his treasure trove of holos and learning Russian words. Chekov, for all that he has the face of an angel, is kind of a hardass when it comes to correct pronunciation.

Leonard adores him, and gives him a long hug before they say goodbye. “Now, if you need someone to talk to, Pasha, you call me, okay? Any time, day or night. I don’t want you to feel alone, or like you have to be brave, or like you’re a burden. I want to know, so I can help.”

Pavel agrees, eventually, and they part ways.

“You might have been right,” Leonard admits quietly to Jim over dinner in the captain’s quarters.  
  
“I always am. About what in particular, though?”  
  
“Chekov might have a tiny little crush on me,” Leonard says quickly, keeping his voice low.  
  
“Might? He’s head over heels for you, Bones. It’s actually very sweet. The other day, he asked me how we met, what brought you to Starfleet. And then a different time, he was a little tipsy, and he kept going on about how brave you were and how kind and caring and competent and skilled—“  
  
“Bullshit! I’ve been hanging out with Pasha more than you have lately. I’d have heard it if he did say all those things!”  
  
“He looks like a cute little puppy, people want to protect his secrets just so he doesn’t do the sad puppy dog pout.”  
  
“But _you_ have no problem telling me this?”  
  
“Look, I like the kid, and he’s clearly got good taste in men, but it’s _my_ boyfriend he’s in love with. Only right that I give you fair warning, so you don’t do anything that might get his hopes up.”  
  
Leonard thinks about holding the boy as he cried and telling him to call anytime and thinks that he probably has done something to get Pasha’s sweet childlike hopes up.  
  
“It’s too late, isn’t it. You’ve gone and done it already.”  
  
Leonard shrugs one shoulder. “Someone’s gotta look out for him. Besides, it’s just a crush. Give him ten minutes and he’ll have one on Spock.”

Jim shakes his head. “Chekov? No way, Bones. He needs love and encouragement, and he isn’t going to get that from Spock. Not the way he needs it.”

“He isn’t going to get it from me, either,” Leonard points out mildly, “seeing as my love is kinda spoken for.”

Jim smiles, shy but pleased. The slightest bit of color fills his cheeks. “Not all love is the same, I guess. And you still care about him. It’s just not the way you love me, that’s all. And that better not change, Bones.”

“It won’t,” Leonard promises. “At least not for a few more years, when he finally fills out that shirt—“

Jim makes a face at him. “You’re the worst boyfriend ever.” The effect of the look is completely ruined, because Jim can’t quite say the word boyfriend without smiling just yet.

Leonard stands up and rounds the table, carefully clearing a bit of space before he settles into Jim’s lap, kissing him. Jim melts into it instantly and pretty soon Leonard’s shirts are on the ground and Jim’s aren’t too far away, and if there’s any food left over, then it’s the last thing on either of their minds.

Jim hauls him over to the bed and pushes him down. Leonard goes, welcoming Jim’s weight as it settles over him.

“Lights off,” Leonard orders, plunging them into darkness.

“Lights, twenty percent,” Jim corrects. “I want to see you, Bones.”

It’s not an unreasonable request, especially not when Leonard remembers that this is the first time they’ve ever actually had sex—they’ve had a few rushed handjobs, spent the night together a few times, but it’s never been like this. Jim hasn’t officially been cleared for full duty, but that has never stopped him from captaining before, and he’s always running around the ship, messing around in engineering with Scotty or running over calculations with Chekov or talking about strategic plans for dealing with potential hostiles (or potentially hostile members of the Admiralty) with Spock.

It’s not an unreasonable request, Leonard reminds himself. But part of him shrinks from being looked at.

“I’m not the man you met on that shuttle,” he says finally, hands reaching up and caressing Jim’s face, “and I’m not the man I was when we were at the Academy, Jim. Not anymore.”

Jim traces a scar on the side of his chest where the ribs had been kicked in and shattered until they poked out of him, moving upwards to reach behind Leonard’s neck, to the tops of the thick, raised whipmarks that travel down his back, parallel to his spine.

He leans down, touching the kneecaps that had been split in two under the force of blows from clubs, and then he comes back up, until his fingers are holding Leonard’s so tight that for once, Leonard can’t feel them shaking.

“Do you think I am, Bones?” he asks tenderly, leaning down to kiss a droplet that dared defy Leonard’s orders and slip down his cheek, “do you think I’m the same man I was at the Academy? When I got into barfights and slept with half of our class and broke rules just for the hell of it?”

Leonard shakes his head. It’s been such a long time since Jim did anything that was so deliberately, pointlessly reckless. Sure, he’s still liable to throw himself in front of any crew member to take a hit, but he doesn’t get into fights just for the feeling of adrenaline in his veins.

“We’ve both grown up,” Jim continues.

Leonard shakes his head at that, though. “You’ve grown up,” he says softly, “I’ve just grown old. And my body’s more broken.”

“You don’t drink as much as you used to. You don’t push people away anymore. You’re nicer to people, when they deserve it, and when you’re not nice, they know it’s because you care about them. You’ve grown up, too, Bones. You can talk to your ex and get along for Jo’s sake. You’re practically a dad to Chekov—“

Leonard cuts him off, leaning up to capture Jim’s lips with his own. “No more talking tonight,” he decides, untangling his fingers from Jim’s just long enough to get a tube out of the bedside table.

“And how did you know that was there, Dr. McCoy? Have you been sneaking around your patient’s rooms?” Jim teases, dropping his head to kiss along Leonard’s neck.

“Not just a patient, he’s my partner,” Leonard says gruffly, “and I don’t think he’s been unprepared for sex a single day since I met him. Now quit stalling, I need you.” He reaches up to pull Jim’s hips down, grinding up against him to show exactly how much he needs him.

Jim takes the message, and for possibly the first time since they’ve known each other, he stops talking.

Well, sort of.

“So fucking _beautiful_, Bones, fuck,” he murmurs, lips pressed against Leonard’s hipbone, “look how good you take my fingers, baby, it’s so hot—like you were _made_ for me, for this—“

Leonard can’t do much more than beg and plead and whimper and repeat Jim’s name like a prayer interspersed with choked obscenities. “Please, please, Jim—Jim, please, need you, need it _now_, Jimmy, please, _please_, fuck—“

Jim presses into him slowly. Leonard had expected a hint of smugness, when he’d imagined this moment, but Jim looks just as wrecked as he feels, going still for a moment with one hand on Leonard’s chest, just over his heart. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he takes a slow, slow breath.

“So tight—“ he mutters, “so perfect. Made for me, Bones. My home. My fucking home, right here—“

Leonard probably shouldn’t be quite as turned on by the talking as he is, especially since some of it could be written verbatim into a porno, but hearing Jim call him his home is deeper and more profound than just sex. He locks his ankles behind Jim’s pelvis.

“Move. Please.” Leonard can barely recognize his own ragged voice.

Jim looks at him through a lock of sweaty hair that’s fallen into his eyes, and Leonard presses a kiss to his mouth before he does.

Jim presses into him, deep and slow and unrelenting, until Leonard’s begging him to go faster and Jim finally runs out of the self-control to maintain his pace and gives in, hand reaching down to stroke Leonard quickly.

That last bit of stimulation is too much, and Leonard’s coming, arching his back and moaning as he feels Jim’s hips thrust hard, stuttering in their rhythm as he climaxes too, just a few seconds later.

Neither of them particularly considers getting cleaned up, and Jim pulls out and pulls Leonard right up against him, wrapping him in his arms.

“Hey, Jim?”

“Hm?” Jim’s sleepy, Leonard can tell, and the drowsiness in his voice almost makes his chest ache with how much he loves him.

“I mandated sessions with Dehner for everybody who was down there. That’s what I went to go talk to Pasha about. That’s what I was talking to Uhura about yesterday.”

Jim hums.

“You need to go too, if you want to get back on full duty.”

Jim huffs a little breath.

“I’m serious. You’ve got to, CMO’s orders. M’Benga’s going to hold you to it.”

Jim huffs another gentle breath, and when Leonard looks at him, he wonders how long he’s been talking to a man who’s well beyond the realm of consciousness.

“Love you, you idiot,” he mutters against Jim’s cheek, letting his own eyes close.

\---  


Waking up with Jim is always an adventure. That first time, when he’d woken up completely numb from the bicep down, had been traumatic and more than a little embarrassing. But this time, at least, it’s more like the daydreams Leonard will forever deny that he’s had, waking up slowly to the feeling of arms around his middle and Jim’s nose tickling his neck as he presses a sleepy good morning kiss to the skin there.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Leonard says with a yawn, rubbing at Jim’s back.

Jim’s breath hitches just the slightest bit. “You’ve never called me that before, Bones.”

Leonard finally opens his eyes properly, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep. “No? Do you not like it?”

“Didn’t say that,” Jim mutters, ears turning a little pink.

Leonard grins and shifts them so he can give Jim a proper good morning kiss, just a chaste peck on the mouth. “Good, because I dunno if I could make myself stop saying it, _sugar_.”

Jim’s ears aren’t the only part of him that are growing redder, he notes with a little bit of amusement.

“Well, if you can’t stop it, then maybe I’ll start, _honey_,” Jim says playfully.

Leonard laughs at how awkward the endearment sounds coming out of Jim’s mouth and ruffles his hair. “Good try, Jimmy. Now, lemme up, I need to take a shower.”

“What’s the point if you’re just going to get dirty again?” Jim’s voice is soft and innocent, a striking counterpoint to what his hand is doing, trailing down Leonard’s stomach to lay against his hipbone, thumb stroking circles around the thin skin there.

Leonard growls and flips them over. Jim’s laugh is possibly the most wonderful thing he’s ever heard, and they don’t get out of bed for a long while after that.

\---  


Nyota is the sort of person who sticks to her decisions once she’s made them, and doesn’t see much point in dragging things out. So it’s not much of a surprise that Leonard’s comm chirps to announce a message while he and Jim are enjoying a lazy brunch on the sofa in Jim’s quarters.

“You don’t have to get that,” Jim says helpfully, pressing a kiss to his mouth, “you’re not on duty, Bones—“

“It’s probably Pasha or Nyota. It’s the bell I have set for—well, for certain people.”

“Do I get that ring, too?”

“No,” Leonard says flatly. Jim looks a little hurt, and he relents almost immediately. “You have your own ring. This one is for Pasha, Nyota, Chang, and Segal.”

“Your crew.” Jim’s voice is quiet, and Leonard can’t help but tense.

“They’re _your_ crew,” he insists, “they were the whole time.”

“We’re yours too, Bones. Back then? We were your crew then. Even me. The way you held onto me, the way you talked Chekov through stitching me up when you had to be dead on your feet, when they’d—Anyway, you don’t need to placate me. I’m not that insecure. Actually—I dunno, I’ve always loved how you took care of people you cared about.”

“Fine, yes, I have a separate ring for everyone who was down there,” Leonard admits quietly, “and then a separate one for you, because you’re—you. My Jim.” He reaches out and presses his hand to Jim’s cheek. Jim covers Leonard’s hand with his own, holding it there for a long moment until the comm chirps again.

Leonard can’t help but look over at it, and Jim lets out a slow exhale, letting go of Leonard’s hand at the same time. “Take it. They need you too, Bones. I don’t get to be selfish with you anymore.”

Leonard’s about to say something—what exactly he doesn’t know, because Jim’s voice has a hint of resignation in it, and he doesn’t want him to think he comes second in Leonard’s life because he doesn’t, not by a long shot. He wants to tell Jim that it’s okay to be selfish now and again, that he doesn’t have to be so damn altruistic every second of every day.

He doesn’t say any of that, though, because he doesn’t have the words, and he’s suddenly haunted by the memory of telling Chekov to call whenever he wanted, of promising him he would never need to be alone again. He reaches for the comm instead.

“Hey, Bones? For what it’s worth, I like being your Jim. And I want you to be my Bones.”

Leonard looks at him and smiles. “I’ve been your Bones for years now, Jimmy. Been yours so long I forgot what it was like before I met you.”

He doesn’t realize how sappy it sounds until he’s looking at Jim’s eyes, wide and surprised and cheeks pink with pleasure. He can’t meet those blue eyes anymore, and he takes the distraction the comm offers him.

“It’s Nyota. She has her first session with Dehner today, and I promised I’d go with her if she needed it. So I’m gonna go swing by her quarters and pick her up, get some of that calming tea from the mess beforehand so she’s a little more relaxed, and then we’ll go. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, darlin’.”

\---  


He and Nyota chitchat over a warm drink for a few minutes before they head over to medbay. Dr. Elizabeth Dehner’s office is in the corner somewhat removed from medbay proper, where all the patient beds are. It’s on the smaller wing set up for non-pharmacological treatments. Rehab rooms are there, as are therapy rooms, massage tables, and the lights they use to treat seasonal affective disorder (which can happen at any given season, considering they’re in space). Leonard leads the way and knocks on the door firmly, letting Nyota enter before he does.

“Dr. Dehner,” he says professionally. He calls her Liz, normally, but they’re in front of a patient, and he doesn’t want to undermine her authority in any way, “if I could just say a few words to start off the session?”

Dehner nods, looking a little taken aback.

“First off, Nyota, this session is all about you. We are all here to ensure that you’re healing as well as you can be. I’ve mandated these sessions with Dr. Dehner to help with that, and Dr. M’Benga has supported that decision. I’m here as a support. If you want me to leave at any time, just say the word. This is a little more complicated than normal, since I was there for some of the traumatic experience you’re here to discuss—“ Leonard pauses at the monumental understatement.

“Our recollections of the events may not match up, and probably won’t, since I was taken away. You do not need to be afraid that you’ll upset me. Your thoughts and feelings are not a burden to me. Dr. Dehner, if you sense that I’m struggling during the session for some reason, you may request that I leave the room, as can you, Nyota. Finally, I will treat these sessions with the same respect for doctor-patient confidentiality as I would if I were the person treating you. That means I will not be discussing this with either Jim or Spock, or anybody else, on or off board. Dr. Dehner will be responsible for communicating her findings to Starfleet HQ and to Spock, but she will do so in a way that respects your privacy as much as possible. Do you have any questions?”

He looks at her patiently, feeling like he’s not utterly useless for the first time in weeks. He almost feels like himself again. He’d noticed himself slipping back into CMO mode, and it felt really fucking good to have that sense of confidence in his words.

Nyota shakes her head.

“Great, then for the rest of this session, I’m just here as Leo, okay? And now I’ll turn it over to Dr. Dehner, since this is her area of expertise.” He smiles at Liz and settles in the chair next to Nyota’s.

Dehner smiles at him. “You can take the CMO off duty, but you can’t make him stop being bossy,” she teases.

Nyota laughs at the joke and it lightens the mood. Leonard knows the trick—make the patient laugh so they trust you more, the first step in building a solid rapport and trust that was absolutely essential for therapy. He just laughs along, shrugging his shoulders haplessly.

“So, Nyota, let’s start with how you’re doing today.”

They talk about how she’s been doing alright for the most part. Nyota pauses a moment, glances sidelong at Leonard, and admits that she hasn’t been sleeping all that well.

“I have nightmares. It’s usually—we could hear Leo, from our cell. It’s usually that, in the dreams. Sometimes they toss him back to us, only he’s not alive anymore—“ She chokes on a sob, and Leonard offers her his hand to hold, only to find himself wrapped in a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” he reassures her, rubbing her back, “it’s good to talk about it. That’s how we get better. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you.”

It doesn’t take her long to pull herself together. Much of the session revolves not around their stint in captivity, but the burden of keeping her trauma to herself once they’d been rescued and returned to the Enterprise.

“I just don’t want Spock to worry,” she admits raggedly, “I already know he does, and he’s already working so hard, doing Captain duties and First Officer duties, and he needs to deal with what happened to me, too, and he hasn’t been sleeping—even less than his usual, I mean—and I just don’t want him to worry. And I can’t tell my family, because they’d be so worried, and my mother would want me to quit and go back home. I don’t know if I would even fit there—even here, I feel—“ she laughs a little hysterically, “I feel like an alien, sometimes. I don’t mean that to be offensive, of course, but that’s the phrase that fits, from way back before First Contact. It’s like I’ve been dropped into an alternate dimension, and everybody else has no idea that I’m fundamentally different from them, that I’ve been through things they haven’t been through, and they can’t understand—“

Some of that strikes a surprisingly deep chord in Leonard, too, and he finds himself blinking away moisture now and again, Nyota’s hand wrapped tight around his wrist.

The session goes well, on the whole. It’s awful to view as her friend, of course. The first session is often draining, with the turbulent unloading of emotion and troubles and fears and tears. But as the CMO, Leonard looks at the session as a really productive one, with Nyota really opening up and talking about her struggles and Dehner offering up some really good solutions to deal with issues like the not sleeping. Nyota’s exhausted by the end of it, as expected. Leonard is too, which he didn’t quite expect.

He drops her off at her quarters to rest, and finds Spock there. He takes him outside into the corridor for a private chat.

“If it’s possible, could you continue to arrange free time for after her sessions?” he asks quietly, “she did incredibly well, and she’s a tremendously strong woman, you know that, but she needs you, especially after a session.”

Spock raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth, possibly to raise issue with the impertinence of Leonard interfering with his relationship with Nyota. Instead, he just exhales, the Vulcan equivalent of a sigh, and agrees.

“And Spock? I know being Acting Captain isn’t easy, but I’d suggest maybe making Sulu your Acting First Officer. Let him lighten your load. I know it’s a lot, with three of the normal bridge officers off duty, but he’s capable of handling it.”

Spock looks at him, expression inscrutable. “I’ll take that advice under consideration, Leonard,” he says finally, and the fact that he uses Leonard’s name and not his title speaks volumes.

Leonard nods and turns to go back to his own quarters, or maybe to Jim’s.

“Leonard?” Spock’s still looking at him when he turns around. “I wanted to express my gratitude, for your support of Nyota. Not just today, but since you have returned. I know she values your friendship.” He pauses just a moment. “As do I,” he adds quietly, heading back into Nyota’s quarters without giving Leonard a chance to respond.

Leonard doesn’t have nearly the emotional reserves required to think about it, about what it must have cost Spock to say that out loud, to think about how hearing it makes him feel, considering he and Spock, while mostly playful antagonists, at this point, are just getting to be friends.

So he does what he does best, and flees.

\---  


“So how did it go today?” Jim asks him. They’re lounging in Leonard’s quarters today, because Leonard had gone there first, leaving Jim to seek him out.

“It was a start,” Leonard says neutrally, “I’m keeping the details to myself, but Dehner will report her findings.”

“You’re not going to tell me?” Jim sounds a little irritated, “you know reporting to a superior officer trumps doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“Your medical records from second year are very clean,” Leonard observes, keeping his voice very calm. They both know what he’s talking about. After first year, Jim had gone into a bit of a tailspin, trying to let loose. It had resulted in about six months of bar fights, one-night stands leading to all sorts of STDs, and hand-to-hand combat that got taken way too far.

None of that is in his medical records, though. Because Leonard had chosen not to report it to a superior officer.

“Don’t be a dick,” Jim says sharply, “I’m asking about a member of my crew. If she got into a bar fight, feel free to keep that to yourself. If she’s not functioning emotionally because we got captured on an away mission, that becomes my business.”

“I’m not the CMO anymore,” Leonard says simply, “and the Acting Captain has been kept up to date on the situation. I don’t want to fight with you, Jim, but I’m keeping this to myself. And I’ll do the same when I go with Pasha to his sessions. If they want you to know how it goes, they can tell you themselves. But I’m not going to break their trust.”

Jim sighs. “You’re so fucking noble, Bones. Fine. Then tell me how it was for you. It must have triggered a lot of emotions for you, too, Bones. It’s not just your patient this time, this was something you went through too.”

Leonard’s shoulders slump. “It was rough,” he admits very quietly, shifting on the sofa so he’s leaning against Jim’s shoulder, “can’t get much professional distance when you can still smell the cell they kept us in, and you remember all the sounds of the guards walking on the stone, the way the door creaked when they opened it, how cold it got at night… It wasn’t my first choice for how to spend a free afternoon, let’s just put it that way.”

“But you’re her captain, and you’re looking out for your crew,” Jim says softly, holding him close.

“And you’re my captain,” Leonard whispers, looking up at him, hoping he’ll get the implication on his own.

“And I’ll always take care of you,” Jim promises, holding him tighter and closer.

The knot inside Leonard’s chest eases a little bit, and he lets his muscles go loose and lets Jim take all his weight.

“Oh, Bones,” he breathes, just as Leonard’s starting to zone out, “you don’t have to carry everyone’s pain. You’re just one man.”

Leonard wants to say something, but he can’t bring himself to ruin this moment, when Jim is holding him and the world is just starting to melt away into hazy unconsciousness.

\---  


He goes to Nyota’s next session, too. It’s better. There are less tears, but Nyota’s not dissociating, either. She’s allowing herself to experience her pain, and she’s allowing herself to express that pain, and Dr. Dehner helps her figure out some healthy ways to deal with it.

Leonard makes Jim dinner that night after he drops Nyota back off at her quarters into Spock’s care, courtesy of a few modifications Scotty had kindly made to his replicator.

“You need to go, too,” he says quietly, “you can’t get back to full duty without it. CMO’s orders, Jim, even you can’t override that.”

“Change the orders, then,” Jim says, as if it’s really that simple.

“I’m not the CMO, Jim. And I think we need to prepare for the fact that I might never be the CMO again. But that’s a different conversation. So. You need to go to therapy with Dehner. I know you’re going to want to try to bullshit her, but I hope you won’t. I hope you’ll actually try to work through it and heal, Jim. For my sake, if not your own.”

Jim’s studying his food as if he’s got a final on mashed potatoes tomorrow morning and a paper about green beans due in the afternoon. Leonard swallows.

“I know I’m asking you to do something that’s really hard for you. I know that. I can come with you, if you want—“

“Like Pasha and Nyota? Because I’m some member of your crew that you have to look after?” There’s a surprising amount of venom in Jim’s voice, and it pricks at Leonard more than he had expected it to. He’d known this conversation wasn’t going to go over well, but he’d hoped—well, that was his own fault, really.

“Because you’re my partner and I love you, asshole,” Leonard retorts, “and I want to be there to support you if you need me. But you’re probably going to say no, so you can try to sell your bullshit to Dehner without getting called on it.”

Jim shakes his head, pushing away his plate. Leonard feels a pang in his chest, looking at his mostly-full plate and remembers how Jim’s appetite is the first thing to go when he’s stressed or upset, and for good reason.

“I don’t want you there. And I don’t know if I’ll try to bullshit her or not. I know the routine pretty damn well, Bones, you know that. But I don’t want you there because if I don’t bullshit her, than you’ll have to hear about—well, it would make you hurt, to hear some of the stuff she’ll want to know about. And I don’t want that. You carry their pain. You don’t have to carry mine, too.”

Leonard sits down across from him at the table and reaches over, lifting Jim’s chin until they’re making eye contact again. “Jim, we’re together now,” he says softly, “I _want_ to help you carry your pain, if it makes you feel better. We’re going to go through life together, I don’t want you to have to hide your emotions from me in some attempt to save me.”

“Would you let me sit in on your sessions, then?”

Leonard flinches. “This isn’t about my sessions, it’s about yours,” he deflects.

“But you do have to go, don’t you? Unless you’ve already gone. It’s CMO’s orders, and you just said yourself that you can’t override them since you’re not CMO right now.”

Leonard sighs. “I am supposed to go. I haven’t gone yet. And no, I don’t want you there. I don’t know how it’s going to play out, it might get ugly, and I don’t want you to hear some of it.”

“Then you can understand why I don’t want you at my sessions.”

Leonard feels like a fly caught in a spider’s web, though he doesn’t know what he was expecting, trying to convince Starfleet Academy’s debate champion of three years to do something he doesn’t want to do.

He nods, defeated.

“But I promise I’ll try. No bullshit. For your sake, Bones. And don’t you go round telling people you’ve made me soft.”

“I would never, sugar,” Leonard promises, leaning across the table to give him a kiss. “Now, promise you’ll make your appointment tomorrow? You don’t have to have it tomorrow, just make the appointment and promise me you won’t skip it.”

Jim starts to nod, but then his eyes narrow. “I will if you will, Bones. You’ve been going around trying to take care of everybody else, you’re suppressing your own hurt.”

“Oh? Got a PhD in psychology when I wasn’t looking to go along with that MD?”

Jim rolls his eyes. “I might have read a few of the papers on your PADD at some point, waiting for you to finish studying so we could go out. Now, stop deflecting. Make your appointment. If you want me to make mine, that is. Otherwise, we can just both skip and face M’Benga’s wrath together?” Jim’s almost hopefully.

“Not gonna happen. What the hell kind of example would that set, me harassing Nyota and Pasha to go to therapy and then not going when I’m ordered to? Might as well stamp the word “hypocrite” across my forehead.”

“Or the name “Jim” on your ass,” Jim says playfully. “Okay, Bonesy, we’ll make our appointments tomorrow.”

“That’s my Captain,” Leonard says proudly, “now, how can I make it suck less for you? Home-cooked dinner? Movie nights? Sex so good it’ll make your brain melt right out your ears?”

“Movie nights sound good,” Jim says cheekily, lips twitching upwards, “don’t want my brain melting, I’ve heard it’s pretty spectacular.”

Leonard smiles and pushes Jim’s plate back towards him. “Eat up, then I’ll make you feel so good you won’t care if your brain _did_ melt.”

\---  


Leonard wakes to Jim’s voice, quiet and desperate.

“Please—_please_ don’t take him. _Please_. Take me—“

Leonard holds him tight and tries not to cry. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, darlin’. Just open your eyes and you’ll see.”

“No—_please_—leave him alone—don’t hurt him—NO—TAKE ME INSTEAD—“ Jim’s almost screaming by the end and he jerks awake, sitting up instantly and catching Leonard under the chin with his shoulder as he does.

“Oh, fuck—wait, Bones?”

Leonard looks up at him and sits up too, wrapping his arms around his sweat-soaked lover and hugging him tight. “I’m here. I’m here, darlin’.”

“I hate you,” Jim murmurs, eyes wet as he presses his face against Leonard’s neck, “god, Bones, I love you, but I hate you, sometimes. I hate you for doing that. How—dammit, how _could_ you?”

Leonard can’t help but remember that first night in the cell, holding Jim in his arms—the only warm thing in a cell that was utterly frigid.

_I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for this, Bones. _

He remembers that night, the puff of warm breath against his skin telling him something he couldn’t stand to hear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding him tight, “Jim, darlin’, I’m so sorry.”

Jim’s shuddering in his arms, breathing ragged. He stays until he calms down a little bit and then he pulls away. “I need a shower.”

Leonard stands up and follows behind him.

“Don’t follow me,” Jim says sharply. His face softens at the expression on Leonard’s face. “Please. Give me five minutes, Bones. Please. I just need a few minutes on my own.”

There must be an upper limit on how long five minutes can be, Leonard thinks to himself. There must be. For just a moment, he imagines Jim opening the other door of the bathroom the captain’s quarters share with the first officer’s quarters. He imagines Jim sneaking out past a sleeping Nyota and a meditating Spock, running away and never coming back.

He wouldn’t, of course. But Leonard can’t stop thinking about it. It’s so new, though it feels older sometimes, because of how well they know each other. But he’s all too aware of how fragile it still is.

When Jim comes back ten minutes later, his skin is pink from the heat of the shower he must have taken, and his eyes are red, and Leonard’s heart sinks low into his stomach.

“I can go,” he offers clumsily, standing up and looking around for his boots. He doesn’t care anymore—if the crew can’t handle seeing their CMO walking through the hall in his pajamas, they’re probably not ready to be serving aboard a starship anyway.

“Do you want to go?” Jim sounds so exhausted, the sort of exhausted that Leonard’s only seen a handful of times—around his birthday, after he failed the Kobayashi Maru both times, and after he came back home after serving aboard a training mission for two months that had gone badly awry. Each time Leonard had wrapped him in his arms, called in sick from either class or work, and laid with him in bed, unwilling to let him go.

It hurts that this time, he’s not sure if Jim would even welcome the touch.

He swallows, and the sound is loud in the silence. “I want to stay with you, Jim. I’ve always wanted that.”

Jim laughs, all bitterness and no joy. “Yeah? That’s why you volunteered to let them beat the crap out of you for three days? That’s why you took the chance that they could have killed you?”

Leonard thinks about how everyone else has treated that decision—Sulu’s open admiration for his bravery, or Spock’s respect for his choice, or Nyota’s heartfelt gratitude, or Chekov’s bright adoration. Then his thinks about Jim, who can’t sleep at night because of his choice, who begs their tormentors to take him instead. He thinks about the strongest man he’s ever known and the best man he’s ever loved, crying over the mere _possibility_ of losing Leonard when he’s only seen him cry a handful of times over the years he’s known him.

He swallows, blinking back the tears that spring to his eyes. “I hate that it hurts you like this,” he says quietly, reaching out his hand to touch Jim’s cheek and flinching when Jim turns away to avoid the contact. “I’m going to go, Jim. Just for tonight, okay? I love you. Go to sickbay if you need something to help you sleep. Geoff’ll have something to get rid of the nightmares, make sure you sleep without dreaming. Or—“ he hesitates for a moment, but he’s been Jim’s doctor since even before he’d been Jim’s friend, let alone Jim’s lover, “or come to my quarters, and I’ll give you something to help. Off the record.”

He nods at Jim, who looks a little heartbroken, and Leonard can’t help the frustration that’s rising inside him, because it doesn’t seem like there’s a right thing to do. Jim won’t let Leonard touch him, he gets angry when he apologizes, and now he looks hurt, as if Leonard’s abandoning him to his demons, when that’s the last thing he wants.

He shoves his feet into his boots, not caring that he’s not wearing socks. “Good night, Jimmy. Try to get some rest if you can, darlin’.”

He’s at the door when he turns back. Jim’s watching him, still standing in the same spot.

“You know the code to my quarters, Jim. Come by if you want to. My bed’s not as big as yours, but we can both fit.” Leonard smiles at him halfheartedly, and walks away.

His own quarters are familiar, and he lays down in his own bed and tries not to think of the man just a few rooms down the hall. He can’t help himself, though, and he can’t quite help the tears born of helpless frustration. He became a doctor so he wouldn’t have to deal with this feeling of impotence, so he would always know what to do to help people, and he can’t do a damn thing for the one person he loves the most.

There’s no quiet, rhythmic breathing to be his lullaby, so he just lays in the dark, awake until he isn’t anymore.

He dreams that Jim comes back, that Jim crawls into his bed with him and holds him close. He dreams that Jim presses his lips to Leonard’s skin as he settles down, and he dreams that Jim stays.

He wakes in the early hours of the morning, throat dryer than a desert and rolls over to grab the glass of water he keeps on his bedside table.

The warm sheets tighten around him as he moves, and he doesn’t think much of it until they let out a quiet grunt, and then he freezes, trying not to allow himself to hope as he turns over and sees Jim there next to him, eyes just barely open a crack to look at him.

“You’re here,” Leonard whispers, water utterly forgotten as he lays back down, turning so he and Jim are face to face.

Jim looks at him, so sleepy that Leonard’s heart is melting into a pile of goo in his chest. “Course, Bones,” he mumbles, pulling him closer and closing his eyes again.

Leonard wraps his arms around him and holds him tight. He blinks back the tears that come to his eyes from the relief, reminding himself that he’s a grown man and a doctor and there’s no need to cry over nothing. But even then, he knows that this is hardly nothing.

Jim’s hand comes up and wipes his cheeks clear of the few lone drops that escape. “’m here, Bones. ‘m here,” he mutters clumsily, and Leonard just shakes his head and presses his lips to Jim’s cheek.

“I love you, Jimmy. Love you so much.”

Jim hums and rubs at Leonard’s lower back for a moment.

Leonard sleeps and he dreams that they listen to Jim, that they take him instead of Leonard, that they toss his lifeless body back at Leonard’s feet after a day of torture, so mutilated Leonard can barely recognize his beautiful face, more familiar to him than his own.

“Shh, Bones, it’s okay. You’re okay, I’m okay, too, they didn’t—I’m here with you, baby, we’re both okay.”

Bones clings to him, so tight that he can feel his nails starting to dig into the muscles of Jim’s back. He laughs miserably. “I dunno, Jim. This doesn’t feel okay.”

Jim nods his head. “Should we go back to sleep?”

“I can’t. Not yet. You go back to sleep, Jimmy, I’m going to have a drink.”

“No alcohol,” Jim reminds him softly, “you’re not allowed, with the meds you’re on.”

“Good to know you got your M.D. when I wasn’t looking,” Leonard says gruffly, “don’t worry, though. I’ll make hot cocoa. Maybe spike it a little, a drop or two of whiskey won’t do me any harm.”

Jim sits up and watches him as he orders the lights up to ten percent, walking to the replicator and leaning against the wall as he enters the order.

“Do you dream about it a lot?” Jim’s voice is almost shy, and Leonard had nearly forgotten how recently they’d gotten together.

“Most nights,” he says bluntly, “it’s been better since—well, it’s worse when I’m alone in bed.”

“Then why did it happen tonight?”

“Something I heard triggered it. It was different tonight, though. Wasn’t me they took.”

Jim flinches. “Bones—“

“Not your fault, kid. You were just talking in your sleep, is all. You couldn’t have controlled it.”

Jim stands up and follows him, sitting against the sofa. “I’ll take one too, then. I don’t think either of us is going back to sleep anytime soon.”

So they drink their spiked cocoa and sit on the sofa. They put on an old holovid on a PADD, but it’s one they’d watched a dozen times while they were at the Academy, and they talk the whole time.

“Do you remember _Introduction to Starfleet Regulations_ first semester?” Jim asks him, talking just for the sake of talking.  
  
Leonard grins. “Yeah, I do. I remember you flirting with me the whole time, even though I blew you off. Honestly that was probably the only thing that kept me from sleeping through that class.”  
  
Jim smirks a little. “Might have flirted extra hard when I knew you were sleepy,” he admits shamelessly, “we both needed to get through that and I wasn’t going to let you wash out.”  
  
“Yeah, well it was still better than human physio one.”  
  
“You only had to take that for a _week_ before you tested out, Bones.” When Leonard looks up at him, he looks amused, the corners of his lips quirking upwards.  
  
“Well it was a fucking awful week. I kept wanting to get up and teach it myself.”  
  
“You did end up teaching it, didn’t you?”  
  
“I was just subbing. Simpson asked me to, we worked together at Starfleet Medical, and she was a superior officer. Couldn’t exactly say no.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, superior officer was your excuse, but you said yes because she was pregnant and you get all gooey about babies.”  
  
Leonard gives him a shove but he doesn’t deny it, either. “Cooper was an adorable baby. And not just because I ended up delivering him.”  
  
“You know, I’ve been trying to figure out when I fell in love with you,” Jim says quietly, playing with their intertwined fingers. “I mean, I loved you within like a month, I knew I wasn’t letting you go. But it was friendship at first, you know? And then we spent Thanksgiving together, and then Christmas... I still don’t know, really, when it started, even now.”

Leonard can’t take his eyes off him, even though Jim’s studying their hands as if they’re the most important things he’s ever seen. Then again, maybe they are.

“Because it was so slow,” Jim continues, “and we were so used to flirting, and I knew you were hot, even the first time I saw you, so it wasn’t like I never thought about having sex with you, you know? But I think the moment I realized it was when you took me back to Georgia for the first time. The way you held onto Joanna, the way you talked to her and smiled at her—I remember being glad that nobody else got to see you like that. I knew anybody who did would end up just as much in love with you as I was. And then I started paying more attention, and you smiled at me that way too, some times. And I made myself believe that you loved me like a brother. And you kept calling me kid, too, that didn’t help. Figured if I was a kid to you, you probably weren’t thinking about me the way I was thinking about you.”  
  
“I thought you needed me to not want you,” Leonard confesses, “thought you needed us to stay the way we were. So many people wanted you, and I wanted to be different. I didn’t just want one night with you. I wanted to _love_ you. And I didn’t want to drive you away. Figured a lifetime of being your friend would beat one night of sex, even if it meant not being yours.”

Jim shakes his head. “Wouldn’t have been one night with you. You weren’t like everyone else, the same rules didn’t apply.”

Leonard smiles at him. “It’s easy enough to say that now, sugar, but at the Academy, it was all one night stands and fistfights in bars, remember? I didn’t know if settling down with an old man would be enough for you.”

“It would have been,” Jim says firmly. “It is. And it’s always going to be.”

Leonard doesn’t like to think about it—what that word actually means. What is _always_, anyway, for two men serving aboard a spaceship? _Always_ could end on any given day. One pathogen missed when Leonard sterilized before or after surgery. A phaser blast hitting Jim one inch to the left.

Spock and Sulu not coming in until the next day. M’Benga had told him when he finally woke up he might not have if they hadn’t gotten to him in time. Their _always_ is a function of luck as much as it is of skill, and Leonard would have to be stupid to ignore that.

“Sometimes, I want to run away with you,” he admits very, very quietly, “somewhere safe, where nothing can happen to you and I don’t have to root around in your chest cavity every month, afraid you’re going to bleed out this time.”

Jim goes still, his grip tightening around Leonard. “We’ll be okay,” he promises. He doesn’t know the things Leonard knows, about making promises he can’t keep, about how badly it hurts like betrayal when the truth comes out.

“I’m not asking you to leave, Jim.” Leonard takes a deep breath. “I might want to, at some point. But not yet. You deserve to have your years as Captain. Ten, fifteen, twenty years. But eventually—I wouldn’t mind watching you grow old, you know.”

Jim nods, sober as he looks as Leonard. “I don’t think I could have understood that until this last time,” he says quietly, and the planet’s name goes without saying for them, “sitting there after they took you away? That was the first time I just wanted us to be somewhere I wouldn’t have to worry about you like that ever again. Normally, you’re fine, you’re up in the ship, or you only go down for science missions.

“This was the first time I thought you might not come back. And I kept thinking about how you wanted a position earthside, or on a base or something safe and stable, and how I was the one who convinced you to become the CMO of a ship. I dragged you into all those flight sims, and then onto real shuttles, and made you fly us around a hundred times until you were one of the best in our whole year—“ Jim’s eyes glaze over, probably thinking about all the panic attacks they’d weathered in the flight sims, and how Leonard had vomited after nearly every flight, even on an empty stomach.

“When the time comes,” Jim says, a strange promise in his voice, “you tell me we’re going back dirtside, and I won’t fight you on it. You’ve given up a lot to be with me, and you deserve to get what you want, too.”

Leonard almost can’t comprehend it, the power Jim’s giving him. But there’s something he’s forgetting, too.

“Jim.” Leonard’s whispering, and if Jim asks him why, he won’t be able to give him an answer. “I—I might not be able to serve on a ship anymore. Not in twenty years, or in five, but _now_. My hands—you know they’re not steady anymore, and I’ll be damned if somebody dies because I’m not in any fit state to be doing surgery. I don’t want to scare you, but I might be headed dirtside sooner than you think. I’ve been in contact with Puri, and he’s head of Starfleet Medical now, and—“

Jim just shakes his head, lips pressed into a thin, unhappy line. “That’s not going to happen. You’re going to recover.”

Leonard can’t help but feel the slightest tinge of irritation. “You don’t know that,” he says sharply, “look at Pike. You need to be prepared for a few years of you being up here in the black while I’m down there.”

“If you go, I go,” Jim says flatly, “I love the _Enterprise_, but if you go, I’ll go.”

Leonard knows in his heart that this can only end badly if he pursues it, so he opts not to. Not this late at night, when they’re both tired and emotionally strung out.

“There are still some things we can’t heal.” He points out mildly, and he leaves it at that.

Jim opens his mouth to respond and Leonard asks him about another memory instead, trying to distract him. Jim narrows his eyes—and okay, maybe Leonard’s tactic was a bit too obvious—but he seems to come to the same decision, and he goes along with the distraction, though the stubborn set of his jaw lets Leonard know that this conversation is not over, by any means.

He wakes in the morning with an awful crick in his neck. Jim’s in the shower, and he’s alone on the sofa, wondering how he’d ever gotten back to sleep.

Jim comes out in a uniform he’s probably borrowed from Leonard, without the medical blues. “Morning, starshine,” he says, too cheerful by far.

“Mornin’, darlin’. You look good in my clothes.”

Jim flushes a little at the compliment, looking self-conscious for just a moment. “Well, I came here in my pajamas in the middle of the night, not like I have a stash of stuff here. That’s a good idea, by the way, remind me to bring some of my stuff in here, and steal some of your stuff to keep in my quarters.”

Leonard nods, not quite willing to do much more than adjust the pillow under his neck until Jim presses a cup of coffee into his hand.

“I love you,” he says fervently, as Jim looks on and laughs.

“I’m glad you’re up, Bones. You got a comm. I wouldn’t have checked it normally, but it was that special ring you have set up for your crew. Pavel’s made his appointment with Dehner, and I think he wants you there.”

Leonard nods, trying to steel himself. “Yeah, he probably does. Poor Pasha’s not handling it all that well.”

“Are any of us?”

Leonard huffs in recognition of the question, and sits up, stretching his neck and sipping from the coffee. “We’re making our appointments today, too,” he reminds Jim, “you’re making yours and I’m making mine.”

Jim opens his mouth as if to protest but thinks better of it, nodding instead.

“Look at you, picking your battles,” Leonard says with a little smile, “you really have grown up.”

Jim cracks a smile at that. “Or I figure I’ll probably be rewarded for getting the appointment.”

“You’re not wrong,” Leonard says with a leer so scandalous that Jim bursts into laughter.

Leonard smiles too and stands up, walking over to kiss him on the cheek and then on the lips. “What’s on your schedule for today?” he asks, fingers playing with the neckline of Jim’s shirt.

“Bunch of meetings with the Admiralty. Mom wants to talk, so I think we’re doing a video chat with her if the ships can manage the connection. Not like she doesn’t already know what’s going on, what with the fact that half the engineers worked under her at some point, but she wants to hear it for herself. And then Pike is gonna call, probably to check up on his two favorite recruits.”

“Drunk and Drunker?” Leonard offers with a little smile, “honestly, I have no idea what that man was thinking, recruiting us. I guess it worked out okay, though, considering you’ve saved the universe a time or two.”

“Not the whole universe,” Jim points out with a little grin, “just a few Federation planets, that’s all.”

“Let a man be proud of his boyfriend in peace,” Leonard orders, pecking him on the mouth again.

“Do you want to talk to them with me?” Jim blurts out, “my mom and Pike, I mean. Mom trusts your word over mine most of the time anyway, and Pike’ll be glad to see you.”

Leonard goes still. That sounds an awful lot like Jim’s asking him to meet his mom and the closest thing he has left to a dad. It’s pretty stupid for him to be so nervous, when he’s already met Winona Kirk a handful of times and Chris Pike was the man who got him into Starfleet in the first place.

“I don’t want to take up all your time with them,” he says cautiously, “but I’d like to come by and talk to them, Jim, if that’s okay.”

Jim’s smile is like the sun coming out from behind clouds, and it’s the most beautiful thing Leonard’s ever seen.

“I’ll tell them to call once you’re done with Chekov’s therapy appointment, then,” he says, pleased.

“Are we going to tell them about—“ Leonard gestures at the air between himself and Jim.

Jim shrugs. “Maybe. Might get Mom to stop harassing me to make a move, already. Or we could let it be a surprise for when we get back to Earth. Whichever feels right in the moment.”

Leonard nods and moves to go to the shower when he feels a sharp smack on his backside. “You’re a fucking menace, kid,” he calls out, pulling his shirt over his head and reaching for the shower controls.

Jim’s gone when Leonard gets out of the shower, though there’s a new message from him on his comm asking if they can get breakfast together in the mess. It’s important for them to eat out amongst the crew, even if they’d rather stay in their quarters sometimes. It’s a smart tactical decision, really, making sure that they arrive separately and will leave separately. The rumor mill started up about them about six weeks into their first term at the Academy, and it had only gotten worse on the Enterprise, though it was much less mean-spirited and more just a banal amusement out in the black. Still, no point in feeding the rumors.  
  
That doesn’t mean Leonard’s happy to go out and monitor himself to make sure he isn’t touching Jim like a lover.  
  
Still, it’s familiar, sitting at their corner table in the mess. Sometimes they chat, but sometimes they sit in companionable silence, too, just eating and sipping at coffee. Leonard had thought they’d run out of things to talk about when they first began living out of each other’s pockets, but it never happened. Instead, they talked a lot of the time and the rest of the time, they grew more comfortable in the silence.  
  
He thinks about Jim as he gets ready. He thinks of everyone else in his life, and he suspects that he’s met a silence he was comfortable with until Jim Kirk, and now their silences are like—they’re like rests in a score of music. They aren’t notes, they’re the absence of notes, and yet they say just as much, if not more.  
  
He walks over to the mess hall and finds Jim already seated, though there’s no food in front of him. He’d waited for Leonard to get there, and that’s new and sweet and Leonard wants to save this moment forever.  
  
He heads over to him and drops into the chair opposite. “Are we going to eat anytime soon, Jim?” He teases, with none of his usual gruffness.  
  
Jim just smiles at him, the soft, tender shift in his lips that feels so new and so precious. He nods and they walk over together to get their food.  
  
They settle back at the table and eat slowly, lingering over the meal so they can stay in each other’s company just a few minutes longer. They keep their hands to themselves, though Jim’s foot presses against Leonard’s under the table, just subtle enough that it won’t get tongues wagging. They flirt, just a little more teasing than their usual banter, glances that linger longer over the lines of muscle or the curves of lips.  
  
Of course, that’s when Chekov shows up, a tray full of food and an anxious expression on his face.  
  
“Pasha? Hey, come sit with us,” Leonard says warmly, laying a hand at his back and leading him to their table. Jim looks a little put out about the fact that their flirting has to come to an end, and he looks pointedly at Leonard’s hand on Pasha’s back when the young man’s eyes are miserably fixed to the ground.  
  
Leonard blushes even though he hasn’t done anything wrong and removes his hand, not commenting when Jim moves from being across the table from him to right next to him, leaving Chekov to sit with the table separating himself and Leonard.  
  
Under the table, Jim lays his hand on Leonard’s thigh and just leaves it there. “What’s got you all tied up in knots this morning, Chekov?”  
  
“Oh—“ Pasha blushes and looks at Leonard for help.  
  
“Pasha’s got an appointment at medical today for a checkup. I keep telling you, son, that scar’s gonna fade, and you’re going to be just as pretty as ever!”  
  
He smiles at that, flushing ever so slightly at the compliment, utterly unaware of how Jim’s grip on Leonard’s thigh tightens just the slightest bit.  
  
Jim maintains eye contact with Chekov, though, leaning in attentively. “If this is about your appointment with Dr. Dehner, it’ll be okay. Hell, Pavel, I’m pretty impressed that you’re doing the right thing to make sure you heal and move past what happened down there. Bones and I are going to make our appointments later today. You and Uhura were braver than us, you beat us to it!”  
  
Pasha looks a little flattered until one piece of vital information filters through his boy genius brain.  
  
“You haf not gone to your appointment yet?” He asks Leonard. “I can come vith you, if you need it? To help, as your friend.”  
  
Leonard’s heart just about explodes in his chest from how sweet Pavel is. “I really, really appreciate the offer, kiddo, but you might already be back on active duty by then, you’ll be busy navigating us across the quadrant.”  
  
“Not too busy. Not if you need me, Doktor.”  
  
“Then I’ll make sure I schedule it for when you can be available. And I’ll see how you feel on the day. You really are a sweetheart, Chekov.”  
  
Jim squeezes his thigh tighter, less playful and more of a warning.  
  
“Jim, don’t you have some meetings to get to with the Admiralty?” Leonard asks, “I can stay here and get a cup of coffee with Pasha before we head over to medical.”  
  
Jim has this reckless look in his eye as he moves his hand from Leonard’s thigh to throw his arm across his shoulders, pulling him in closer. It’s the sort of action that just barely toes the line of their friendship, considering they were always tactile.  
  
Leonard leans into the touch. “I don’t want you to be late,” he says softly, and for a moment it feels like just the two of them, until Chekov clears his throat.  
  
“I can get you ze coffee, Doktor. And I will have some, too.”  
  
“Maybe go with that chamomile tea, Pasha, the caffeine might make you more anxious and the tea will calm you down.” Chekov nods and gets up from the table.  
  
“You’re such a flirt, Bones,” Jim says, voice low, “might have to show you that you’re taken later tonight.”  
  
A shiver runs up Leonard’s spine and he just wants to lean up and kiss his captain, right in the middle of the mess hall. Instead, he lays his head down, resting it where Jim’s neck meets his shoulder.  
  
“Just trying to build him up, he looked terrified,” Leonard mutters, making sure nobody else can hear.  
  
Jim hums as Pavel comes back, holding a mug in each hand.  
  
“Coffee, Leonard? I brought some cream and sugar, I do not know how you take it—“  
  
Jim takes the cup from him and makes Leonard’s coffee with his free hand, adding one and a half packets of sugar and a splash of cream before mixing it.  
  
“Here you go, Bones, drink up!”

Leonard smiles at him, probably more fond that he means to, and moves out from under Jim’s arm to take the mug in his hands. He sips at it slowly and smiles.

He talks to Pasha about something in navigation that he’d been interested in. Leonard had been just about smart enough to grasp the very edges of the topic, but Jim is better versed in it, and Pavel’s so animated he keeps gesturing near his mug and Leonard has a mild heart attack every time.

Finally, it comes time for Pavel to get to medical for his appointment, and Leonard rises to go with him. “Run, Jimmy, you don’t want to keep the Admirals waiting,” he says firmly, ruffling his hair as he and Pavel head out.

\---  


He gives pretty much the same introductory speech that he gave with Nyota. This time, he and Pavel sit on a sofa together with Dr. Dehner on a chair across from them. Nyota had been a friend of Leonard’s for years now, but he kept a respectful distance from her most of the time, knowing that she’s in a committed relationship and not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable in any way. He doesn’t have those same fears with Chekov, and he sits closer to the younger man.

Pavel is slower to open up, less articulate than Nyota, which is to be expected given that Nyota’s expertise is in communications. He stumbles over his words sometimes, and sometimes, he looks over at Leonard with this lost, pleading look on his face, as if asking him to take over telling the story.

“I can’t do that, son,” Leonard says softly to him, “this is about you, healing you. And to do that, we need to know how you feel, not my best guess at how you feel. Just try. We can start from the beginning, if you need to.”

Chekov takes the invitation and runs with it, and Leonard gets a whole lot of background information about how it felt to be the youngest kid in the class every day, how lonely it was when you wanted to be friends with someone but couldn’t quite bridge the gap in life experience. Pavel had had a pretty lonely life, he realizes now, and it makes the small protective urge in Leonard’s chest grow larger as he wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“I never had many friends,” Chekov confesses, “so I am not wery good at this—at talking about my feelings. Even in my family—I am not normal. My older brother is normal, he had lots of friends. Girls who kissed him at night when I was already asleep, boys who would play football with him without being afraid of knocking him over. I did not have this.”

He talks about being on the Enterprise, and how he finally feels like maybe he does have that sense of connection to other people, and Leonard’s eyes water a little bit, because he’s the father of a young daughter and a former child prodigy himself (albeit not quite as much of a genius as Chekov), and maybe this is all hitting him a little too close to home.

“They would take Leonard every day,” Chekov says quietly, eyes glazed over as he thinks back to that time and that place, “and the keptin would just stand up and walk over to the bars as close as he could get, and just listen—we could hear Leonard screaming in pain. The first day, it was not so bad—we know they are hurting you, but you were shouting back at them, telling them—well, lots of things. And you were so brave, Leonard. And the keptin—he was scared, but he was so proud of you. He kept saying he was so proud of you, that you were so brave and the best friend—the best person—he ever knew.

“And then the next day, you—you did not shout back. You just screamed when they hurt you, and the keptin—something inside him broke, and he was screaming, begging them to take him instead, begging them to let you go, trying to pull apart the bars somehow, or find a weakness in the hinges, or trying to get out of the window—“

“That window was nine feet high and I don’t think even you could have fit through it,” Leonard mutters, forgetting himself for a moment.

Chekov nods, eyes squeezed shut. “He vas desperate, Leonard.”

Leonard shuts up right quick at that.

“He was reaching up for it, and he—something happened with his hip, the cut there, and he was very quiet. I helped him to sit. I asked if he wanted water, but he shake his head no and close his eyes. You start screaming again, but this time, you ask them to kill you. You beg them—and the keptin starts to cry. Loud, like—like injured animal. Like his heart is breaking. They bring food and he say he does not want the food, and then we leave him alone.

“Lieutenant Uhura saved him some food, and tried to wake him up to eat it, later—when it was quiet for a few minutes, and he—he would not wake up.

“And then a couple of hours later, they bring you back, and—your hands, Leonard. We thought you would fix it, find a way to fix him. You always fix him.” Chekov’s eyes are wide and pleading and each of his words hits Leonard like a punch in the stomach.

“But you could not—your hands. I could not even look at zem, zey were so bad.” Chekov swallows hard, “And I think, I can try, but the keptin did not wake up, and he—I think I have killed him, maybe, did something wrong—“

Leonard tightens his grip on the boy, holding him closer and trying to resist the urge to run out of the room himself.

“When we get back, I dream that I kill him. I dream sometimes that I kill you, Leonard, that nobody is helping me, and I cannot do it. I dream that they kill you, and they kill the keptin, and they kill everybody and I am ze last one left, and then they kill me too.”

Pasha’s sobbing openly, hiding his face and muffling his words into Leonard’s uniform as he holds the boy tight and tries his best to avoid Dehner’s eyes, knowing that he’s only about one sympathetic word away from tears himself.

She steps in and starts trying to wind Pavel down, trying to get him calmed down enough that the rest of the day won’t be spent staring at the bottom of a vodka bottle and sleeping fitfully in his quarters.

Leonard holds him the whole time, kissing his golden curls and whispering that he’s so proud of him, that he’s been so brave, that he’s such a strong, wonderful, good boy. Pasha calms down somewhat, though he seems reluctant to leave Leonard’s arms once the time for their session has elapsed.

Leonard’s not too keen on it himself, though he does need a few minutes to himself so he doesn’t fall apart in front of the kid who looks up to him so much.

“Hey Pasha?” he asks, voice so gentle he might as well have been talking to his own daughter, “sweetheart, I’m going to go talk to Nurse Chapel for just two minutes, okay? You stay here, and I’ll be right back to come get you and walk with you.”

Pasha nods, sitting in the chair that Leonard steers him to, eyes wide and sad and empty as he watches Leonard walk over to Christine.

“I need a privacy screen and an emesis bin,” he says very calmly. Chapel looks up at him, surprised, but pulls him over to an empty biobed and draws the curtain. Leonard sits on the bed and leans over to puke up his breakfast, the bitter acid of the coffee burning his mouth.

Chapel hands him a glass of water and he drinks the whole thing down in one gulp, grimacing at the burn at the back of his throat.

“I’m prescribing anti-anxiolytics for Chekov,” he announces once he’s done vomiting, “I want some antidepressants, too. I’m going to go put him to bed, and I don’t want him to dream.”

Chapel hands him a small box with the hypos he’d asked for and he nods his thanks at her. He gets up to go, only to have her small hand wrap around his arm.

“You need to be in there yourself,” she says quietly, “make sure you don’t give away so much that you’ve got nothing left for yourself, Len.”

He nods. “I’m making my appointment today,” he promises, “and Chris? This conversation doesn’t get back to the Captain, are we clear?”

She nods. “He just worries about you, Leonard, that’s all. But I won’t tell him.”

He nods, leaning in to kiss her cheek before realizing that his breath probably smells rank and opting to pat her shoulder instead.

He sits down next to Chekov and wraps an arm around him again. “Where do you want to go, Pasha? We can go back to your quarters, or we can go visit Sulu in the botany lab or Scotty in engineering.”

“You vill stay?” Chekov asks, voice so small it rips Leonard right open. He thinks about Jim, and how he had promised to be there for the phone calls with his mom and Pike.

“Of course I’ll stay, kiddo. I need one hour with Jim for some meetings, but other than that, I’m yours all day today, okay? We can sit in a rec room and play cards, or read a book, or watch a film, or whatever you want.”

Chekov looks at him, the adoration in his expression so clear that Leonard wonders how he could ever have missed it.

“Let me just send a comm to Jim, let him know,” he says with a smile.

_Chekov needs me today. Saved an hour for the call with your mom and Pike, though. Let me know when you need me._

He hopes it doesn’t read too badly, as if he’s trying to dismiss Jim or his needs. But he can’t leave Chekov, not when he’s just learned how desperately lonely he is, how starved he is for friendship and love, how afraid he is of losing his position from some tiny error laid at the feet of his youth.

They go to a rec room and Leonard lets Chekov snuggle right into him as they watch a movie. They watch one film, and then another, all in Russian, and Leonard’s shocked at the fact that he can pick up a few of the words. Not many, of course, and the subtitles are still essential to his understanding the plot, but he can pick out certain words Pasha’s taught him.

He strokes through Pavel’s golden curls absently, even as Pavel shifts and lays his head against Leonard’s shoulder and his breathing slows. Leonard shifts ever so slighty to make sure he’s sleeping. He smiles and kisses the top of the kid’s head, still stroking his hair. That is, until the sofa shifts from the weight of someone dropping into it on Leonard’s other side and his fingers go still as his muscles go stiff.

“Hey, Bones!” Jim’s voice is too light.

Leonard closes his eyes. “I thought you had meetings with the Admirals today,” he says softly.

“Figured I’d come see what my favorite doctor was doing with my favorite teenager.”

“He’s a navigator, not just a teenager,” Leonard responds, flushing when Pavel shifts and huffs out a warm breath against his neck.

“You’re not honestly telling me age is just a number,” Jim says flatly, “because he’s so young he could be your son if you’d been a more reckless teenager.”

“I’m telling you that you can’t define him by it. He’s been defined by it his whole life, why can’t you focus on the skills he brings to the table instead?”

Jim’s eyes narrow. “You got a thing for blue-eyed blondes, Bones?” he asks, voice playful but the question serious.

Leonard shakes his head. “The only thing I’ve got is for assholes who go diving headfirst into danger and whose name rhymes with Slim Turk.”

Jim sighs, melting into him a little more, taking Leonard’s spare hand in his own and intertwining their fingers. “I wish I could be more selfish with you,” he confesses, “I wish I didn’t have to share you with everyone. I didn’t always mind, but since we got back… I don’t know. It’s stupid, I know it is, but. I just wanted you to make time to talk to my mom and Pike, Bones.”

Leonard looks at him, sees a sadness in his eyes that he wants gone immediately. “I’m the CMO of the ship,” he says seriously, “not officially, not now, but people still come to me to fix their problems. That’s always going to be the case, even if we both retire to Earth and stay at the Academy, teaching. I’m going to have patients, or students, or experiments that’ll take up some of my time.”

Jim’s not meeting his eyes, just looking down at his knees.

“But,” Leonard continues, “I knew that this would be a rough day for Pasha. I didn’t know how rough it would be on me, but I suspected it wouldn’t be a walk in the park, and I was right. I should have known better than to schedule the ‘meet the parents’ calls today. I’m sorry, Jimmy, I really am.”

Jim looks somewhat mollified by that response and lays his head down on Leonard’s shoulder—the one not currently occupied by a genius Russian navigator.

“I’m sorry too,” he says after awhile, “I knew—you didn’t handle Nyota’s first appointment all that well, I could have guessed Pasha’s wouldn’t be easy. And—I’m sorry I’m being so stupid and possessive over you. I know—“ he lowers his voice, whispering into Leonard’s ear. “I know you love him because he’s just a kid and he reminds you of a kid brother or of Jo. But he’s a pretty blond genius who wears gold. It’s hard not to worry, you know, when your boyfriend’s getting cozy with someone who’s like you only a few model years newer without the tragic history.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m too old for him. And I _hate_ the tragic backstory, Jim. I _hate_ that you had to go through all of that. But, my god, I wouldn’t change a single hair on your head, and I wouldn’t wish away the tragic backstory, not if it would change my boy into someone else, because I love _you_, and that—all of that shit is what made you _you_.”

Jim looks at him. “You know, I kinda want to drag you back to my quarters now,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against Leonard’s neck, “only you’ve got my navigator using you as a pillow.”

“I kinda wanna put tape on your mouth so you can stop being such a tease for ten minutes,” Bones grumbles at him.

“Ooh, kinky,” Jim says playfully, and of course Leonard laughs at that, even if it is the stupidest joke he’s ever heard.

Pavel shifts a little as his pillow moves, opening his eyes and seeing Jim. “Oh, hello, Keptin,” he says sleepily, “you are taking Leonard for your meetings?”

“Yeah, Pasha. It’s not—well, it’s a call with my mother, and she likes to talk to Bones. But then after that, Admiral Pike’s scheduled for a call, and he asked for Bones specifically. You know, I think Bones was always his favorite, really.”

“Oh, hush, you. Chris has always liked you best.” Leonard rolls his eyes at him.

Pavel looks back and forth between them, as if studying something particularly fascinating. He doesn’t really bother to separate himself from Leonard, though, looking as though he’s entirely comfortable. His eyes start to droop again, and Leonard gives him a gentle nudge to keep him awake.

“Let me take you back to your quarters, Pasha, come on, you’ll sleep better there. Jim, I’ll come to your quarters after, okay?” Jim nods, and heads out.

Chekov opens his eyes and nods, letting Leonard guide him into standing up.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Leonard encourages him, “you’re skinny enough, but I can’t carry you, I’m too old.”

“You are not zat old,” Pavel protests, and there’s a hint of flirtation in his voice.

“I am compared to you, son.”

Pavel accepts that and shakes his head back and forth to wake himself up a little more before he’s ready to walk back to his own quarters.

Leonard follows him, and when they get there, he walks in. “Put a cup of water next to your bed, son, okay? And comm me if you need me. The meeting with Pike isn’t as formal as it sounds, he probably just wants to check on me. So I can come back if you need me. Have a good nap, okay?”

Chekov nods, and as Leonard turns to leave, he reaches out and takes his hand.

“Thank you, Leonard. For taking care of us. For taking care of _me_.”

“Of course, Pasha, now get some rest, kiddo. And then you and me and Jim can hang out for a little while, maybe.”

Pasha nods and climbs into his bed and Leonard hesitates for a moment before he leans down and kisses the boy on the forehead.

“Lights fifteen percent. Sleep well, Pavel.”

Leonard leaves his room and walks over to Jim’s quickly, letting himself in and seeing that Winona’s already on the screen. He pulls up a chair next to Jim and waves at her.

Winona Kirk is a beautiful woman, even now, and she’s still serving, teaching engineers at the Academy in between going up on missions with the _Resilience_. She has a face that looks like it could be stern enough to frighten students into excellence, but there are laugh lines bracketing her mouth and there’s a softness to her mouth, as if she smiles often. There’s a weariness in her eyes, from having raised two children on her own, though Leonard isn’t quite sure it counts raising children, dumping them onto her brother or her husband and running back up into space to chase the ghost of the only man she had ever truly loved.

Leonard had hated her for a long time, before he’d ever met the woman, seeing what her actions had done to her son. But now, having looked down on his table and having seen Jim Kirk’s electric blue eyes still and unmoving, only to be covered by a drape—well, now he finds it’s easier to have compassion for the mother of the man he loves.

“Hey, Winona.”

“Hello, Leonard. I hear my son’s dumbassery is contagious.”

“Held out this long, ma’am, but he finally got me,” Leonard says solemnly as Jim lets out a snort.

“Weaker men have fallen much faster,” Winona says, matching Leonard’s tone with her own. But there’s a twinkle in her eye. “Normally, I get to say thank you for fixing him up. But this time—Leonard, thank you for taking care of his people when he couldn’t. And for taking care of him.”

Leonard shifts a little, uncomfortable with the gratitude.

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing him, Mom,” Jim says quietly, “he doesn’t think about it like that, he just does what he thinks is right.”

“Caught that one from your son, too,” Leonard says with a little smile, “anyway, he’s healed up really nicely, I wouldn’t worry about him for at least another month, Winona.”

“And you? From the reports I’ve seen, Jim was actually the lucky one out of the two of you.”

“I wouldn’t class having his abdomen sliced open and his shoulder dislocated as being lucky, ma’am,” Leonard deflects.

“Did my son teach you how to avoid giving a straight answer to a question, too?”

Leonard grins crookedly. “No, that one I had even before I had the misfortune of meeting him.”

She graces his remark with a smile, but her eyes are too sharp, as she looks at him through the video link. “So how is the recovery really going?”

Leonard stumbles over his own words for a second, trying to phrase a response. He looks at Jim out of the corner of his eye, and then back at Winona helplessly. “It’s going fine,” he says faintly.

“Go take a walk, Jim. I’m not going to get anything out of him if you’re breathing down his shoulder the whole time.”

“You’re _my_ mother, why would I leave now?!”

“_James Tiberius_, march.” Her voice is cold and stern and Leonard can picture Jim as a young child, asking all sorts of questions that his mother didn’t want to answer and being ordered to leave it alone or walk away.

James Tiberius, twenty-seven years old, broad-shouldered and strong, with Captain’s stripes on his uniform sleeves and lines around his eyes, marches.

“So. Talk to me, Leonard.”

“It’s not great,” Leonard acknowledges, “I’m trying to prepare Jim for the fact that I might not be able to continue serving on a starship. My hands—well, I don’t know how long it’ll take before I can trust myself with a scalpel again. If I ever can. I’ve told Spock to be on the lookout for talented surgeons looking to serve shipside.”

“Well, fuck.” It’s always a bit of a shock to hear profanity come out of Winona’s mouth, always jarring to hear such ugly words from such a graceful, dignified person.

“Yeah. Jim doesn’t wanna hear it, keeps insisting that I’ll be fine. A few days ago, he said he’d quit if I had to leave the Enterprise, said he’d follow me.” Leonard sighs, long and slow. “That damn fool boy of yours, Winona, honestly.”

“Look at that,” Winona says softly, “Leonard, what’s that at the corner of your mouth?”

Leonard wipes at the skin and finds nothing. “Hm?”

“That there is a kiss,” she continues, “and I’m thinking it belongs to my son.”

The words are familiar. Leonard recalls his grandmother’s voice, reading to him in his bed when he was a little boy, kissing his forehead as he fell asleep. He’d always pictured her as a Wendy Darling, knowing somehow that she’d had a love that had gotten away before she met her grandfather.

“Wendy had to leave Neverland in the end,” Leonard says grimly, “Wendy Darlings don’t get happy endings with their Peter Pans.”

“Only if Peter refuses to grow up.” Winona’s voice is very, very gentle, “and I think you know our Peter’s not a boy any longer.”

Leonard can’t meet her eyes anymore and looks away. “Sometimes I think Jim hasn’t been a child in decades.”

“He loves you, Leonard. Don’t hurt him. Please, don’t hurt my boy.”

Leonard swallows, unable to look into brilliant blue eyes that are the same color as Jim’s.

The door whooshes open and Jim comes striding back in, taking in Leonard’s averted gaze and the serious look on his mother’s face. “What are we talking about?” he asks lightly, though his eyes are alert enough that Leonard knows the levity is fake, just another way to assess the situation.

“I won’t,” he promises the woman on the screen, “you have my word.”

She looks him in the eyes and nods. “Come sit, Jim. What are you doing these days? You must be bored out of your mind. Leonard, please tell me he’s not harassing you in med bay—“

“I’m not in med bay much myself these days,” Leonard says with a pained smile, “so I can honestly tell you he hasn’t bothered anyone down there at all.”

“Bones—“ Jim’s voice is a quiet reprimand.

“I trust our conversation will stay between us, Winona,” Leonard says quietly, rising to his feet, “and now, I’ll leave you to have some time with your son. Behave for your mother now, Jimmy. I’m just gonna run over to Chekov’s quarters, check on him, and I’ll be back before Pike calls, okay?”

He ruffles Jim’s hair and pauses for a second, looking at Winona, and leans down to kiss the top of Jim’s head.

“And Winona?” Leonard looks at her and brushes a thumb at the corner of his mouth. “You were right, what you said. And who.”

Winona beams at him.

“Bones,” Jim says softly, “he’s fine, he’s asleep. Stay here. Please. He’ll comm if he needs you.”

Leonard looks down at him, at his beautiful eyes, wide and pleading, and he thinks about the fact that he’s already ditched Jim for a few hours, focusing on Chekov, and it’s not like Pasha doesn’t have any other friends, anyway…

“I’ll comm Sulu to go check on him later, then,” Leonard says, sitting back down and typing out a quick message.

“So Jim, when did you finally make your move, then?” Winona asks curiously, “because god knows I’ve been after you for years trying to get you to do it.”

“_Mom_,” Jim hisses through his teeth.

“It’s recent,” Leonard says softly, looking at him and really letting his love for Jim show. “What gave us away?”

“You just told me, that helped,” she deadpans. “Plus Jim isn’t pining anymore when he looks at you.”

Jim flushes a little and takes Leonard’s hand. “I wasn’t pining before,” he mutters.

She just gives her son an imperious look. “Fine, maybe I was pining a little bit,” he admits.

“You should speak to my mother about it,” Leonard says with a little smile, “she was of the same mind as you. I haven’t spoken to her since I got discharged from med bay, though, so she probably doesn’t know yet.”

“We’re going to surprise her,” Jim pipes up, “when we get back to Earth.” He looks at Leonard shyly, as if asking if that would be okay.

Leonard’s heart swells in his chest, and he leans across and kisses Jim on the cheek. “I think that’s a great plan, darlin’,” he agrees, ignoring the way Winona’s face lights up at the endearment.

“Can I tell Chris, then? Or Sam?”

“We have a call with Chris after this, actually. We might tell him then.”

“We probably won’t have to,” Leonard grumbles, “he’s got that knack for just knowing things. He’ll probably know just by looking at us.”

They talk a little while longer. Winona keeps trying to sneakily pry into their relationship, with innocuous statements about how nice it can be to share a bed after something so traumatic and how being in the right person’s arms can make almost anything feel bearable.

Leonard just accepts it, knowing full well that his own mother will be much worse and much blunter when she interrogates them. Jim flushes prettily but doesn’t answer the questions, just muttering about how _you’re not nearly as clever as you thinks you are_, and _this is why you didn’t get ops or command, Mom, you can’t do subtlety for _shit.

Eventually Jim drops a pretty heavy hint about how it’s getting to be time for Chris’ call. She does take the hint, and then she says goodbye. “I should be here when you get back to Earth, so come see me, okay? Leonard, I’m holding you to that, make sure my son visits.”

“I’ll do my best, ma’am,” Leonard says obediently, “we’ll probably be in San Fran for quite a while.”

“But we’ll be busy,” Jim adds, “and Bones is going to need to work on his rehab, too, so we can’t sit around all day so you can interrogate us.”

Winona just raises an eyebrow. “You _really_ think I’ll need all day, James?” she asks lightly, winking at Leonard before she signs off.

Jim relaxes after the call’s over. His relationship with Winona has always been rocky, and while it’d definitely gotten better since he’d joined the Fleet, it still took a toll on him, acting like a model son and a model captain in front of her, still trying to impress his mother.

Leonard wraps an arm around him and kisses his cheek. Jim turns towards him and Leonard takes the opportunity to press a quick chaste kiss to his lips.

Jim smiles, then, small and pure and achingly genuine, as if he’s never been quite this happy.

“You’ve got heart eyes going on, Jimmy. Keep that going and it won’t take Chris more than a second to know we’re together,” Leonard says mildly, but he can’t stop himself from smiling.

“Good thing we’re not in the ready room or on the bridge,” Jim purrs, leaning in to catch him back into another kiss—considerably less chaste.

By the time the comm rings again, Jim’s practically in Leonard’s lap, one hand shoved up under his shirt to lay against warm skin.

Leonard curses and shoves Jim off of him and back into his own seat, scrambling to make sure his shirt is pulled back down and his hair is less noticeably mussed from where Jim’s hand had been pressed into it.

“Jim, you _asshole_, I thought Captains were supposed to be _smart_—“ he hisses, as the comm continues to ring insistently.

“It’s fine, baby, it’s not like he won’t know anyway—“ Jim rebuts, “how do I look?”

Leonard bites back his first response—_fuckin’ perfect, you bastard_—and instead just says fine.

“Me?”

“Gorgeous,” Jim says honestly, shooting him a crooked grin before he answers the call.

Leonard just sits there for a few seconds while Chris and Jim say their hellos, hoping that something’s left of his natural tan to cover the fact that he’s blushing like a damn schoolboy with a crush.

“Leonard,” Christopher Pike says to him, a warmth in his voice that’s all friend, with only vestiges of grateful patient, not a hint of Admiral hardassery to be found. “How are you?”

“Doing okay, Admiral,” Leonard says with a return, “how’s my planet? You lookin’ after her for me?”

“She’s fine,” Chris confirms, “beautiful sunshine, perfect weather, just a hint of a breeze. The surfers are coming out. A few cadets thought it looked easy enough and ended up in Starfleet Med. I swear, if you’d been there, you would’ve given them a piece of your mind.”

“Well, I’m sure Puri did his best Bones impression, trying to scare them straight,” Jim says with a smile and a sidelong glance.

“No replacing the original, though.” Pike’s voice has something else in it, and Leonard remembers the clever, endlessly persistent Captain who had recruited him, all those years ago, when he’d been drunk and depressed and teetering right on the edge of the poverty line after the divorce.

“You can’t have him,” Jim says firmly, “Bones was made for the stars, same as any of us.”

Pike laughs out loud at that, and even Leonard chuckles, unable to stop himself.

“I had aviophobia so bad they had to use drugs to desensitize me to the sensations of flying and then I had to attend a half dozen aviophobia conferences where we all hugged and cried about it together.”

“Yeah, but you ended up with the best piloting scores in our year!” Jim’s still proud of that, and Leonard rolls his eyes.

“I got top ten, and all the folks actually training to be pilots beat me,” he deadpans.

“As they should,” Pike says firmly, “I’d be worried if our pilot cadets were being outperformed by a doctor who was fighting off nausea the whole time, Leonard. And Jim’s right, it’s a hell of an accomplishment. Perfect for someone who wanted to fly medical missions now and then, between working at SFM and teaching.”

“Chris.” The levity in Jim’s voice is entirely gone, leaving behind a very stiff, very stern Captain. “This conversation is over. He is not available for transfer.”

Chris shrugs, and Leonard’s reminded of water rolling off of a duck’s back. “Consider it a warning, then, Jim. Lots of people in high places are gunning to get Leonard. I’ve heard half a dozen Medical Admirals plotting about it until they saw me getting close, and that’s not even including all the starbase commanders, or the other starship captains who have their eye on him.”

“Sometimes I wish you were just a little more mediocre, Bones,” Jim mutters under his breath, “it’d make my life a little easier.”

“If he was more mediocre, you wouldn’t be alive,” Chris says evenly, “and neither would I. And that’s not counting the vaccines he’s developed, and the cures, and the advanced neural grafting procedures, and—“

“Jim’s aware of my CV,” Leonard says dismissively, a little embarrassed, “I understand that offers are being made, Admiral. But I prefer to stay on the _Enterprise_, Chris, for as long as I can. You know that.”

Chris nods, eyes softening. “So. How are you really, then? I read the reports, it didn’t sound pretty down there.”

Leonard squirms a little, still not quite sure how to answer that question without blatantly lying.

“I’m working on it,” he says finally, pressing his lips together. “Not there yet, but I’m working on it.”

“He’s getting better every single day,” Jim says loyally.

“You don’t need to talk for me, Jim,” Leonard snaps, because frankly, it feels a little like he’s a kid whose parents are talking _at_ him instead of _to_ him. Jim’s taken aback, eyes wide and hurt. Pike just looks sympathetic.

“It fucking _sucks_,” Leonard hisses, “my hands are _fucked_, Chris. I can’t go running, because my knees are just getting used to being back in one piece. I can’t walk too fast or my ribs start to ache. I had a panic attack because I slept funny and couldn’t feel my fucking fingers. So that’s how the recovery is going. Sir.”

“Sir—“ Jim starts, ready to start apologizing on Leonard’s behalf, which is perhaps even more infuriating.

“Leave it, Jim. I know it sucks, Leonard. I remember. You and Jim were probably the only people who got me through the damn process. I ended up screaming at the physical therapists every week, pretty much. Wasn’t too nice to you, either, Len. You were good enough to keep treating me.” Chris’ voice softens.

Leonard takes in his eyes, soft and warm and maybe even a little bit paternal. That’s probably its own flavor of fucked up, considering his daddy issues, so obvious they’re front and center in his Starfleet psych eval. He sighs as he realizes that Chris probably understands how he feels better than anybody on the crew possibly could.

“You were just trying to process the trauma,” he says quietly. “I’m not such an asshole that I would stop treating you for that.”

“Yes. I was.” Chris agrees. The implication hangs heavy in the air. “You gave me space to do that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Leonard sees Jim flinch, just slightly. “We don’t give you the space to do that,” he says very softly.

“Jim, it’s fine—“

“No, every time you get mad, I get mad back. And you’re so busy trying to take care of your crew, you never let anyone take care of you. And every time you get depressed, I just ignore it and tell you you’re going to be fine.”

“_Jim_.” Chris reprimands him. “He’s the doctor, not you. He knows there are no guarantees, and it’s just plain stupid to pretend there are. Now, you’re a lot of things, but I _never_ took you to be a fool—”

“Look,” Leonard interrupts, “Chris, this isn’t how I am normally. I’m a little on edge today because I attended a counseling session with one of my patients, to serve as an emotional support for him. It was… draining. Jim is treating me fine, you know how he always takes care of me. And Jimmy, I shouldn’t have snapped at you, sweetheart. I know I’m tired and my head’s all messed up right now, but that’s no excuse to take my anger out on you, and I’m sorry.”

Jim just smiles and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in a little bit closer. The physical contact grounds Leonard, helps him breathe again, helps his heart slow back down to its normal pace.

“So, when did this happen, then?” Chris sounds a little amused, and if he’s just trying to change the subject to lighten the mood, Leonard doesn’t mind.

“What?” he grumbles, finally giving in to the fatigue and laying his head down on Jim’s shoulder.

“’Sweetheart.’ When did that happen? You know your mother and I have been talking about it for years now, Jim—“

“Am I really that obvious?” Jim marvels.

“It’s not just you, if that makes you feel better.” Leonard leaves it at that, thinking about the pity in Nyota’s eyes as she had looked at him, examining his every emotion, and sighed sympathetically. _Oh honey, you’ve got it bad_, she’d said, and Leonard had never felt so exposed.

Chris eyes them both, and they both meet his gaze steadily, Jim’s arm tightening just slightly to bring Leonard even closer.

“That explains the reactions to the transfer requests, then,” Chris muses, “and the unedited report Spock sent me from your debriefing, Jim.”

“Oh.” For the first time, Jim flushes a little bit. “I wasn’t happy with some of the command decisions that Bones made, is all.”

“He threatened to transfer me and _then_ demote me,” Leonard grumbles, “and you won’t see _that_ in any reports, Chris.”

They talk of other things for a little while. Leonard can’t help but feel a little drowsy, after the day he’s had, and so Jim does the heavy lifting and asks Chris about his classes and the new crop of cadets and teases him about whether he’s found the next Jim Kirk yet. Chris handles it all with grace.

“I gotta put Bones to bed, Chris. But it was good talking to you,” Jim says softly.

“It really was, Chris. Give my best to Puri,” Leonard adds, waving at the camera.

“Wait—before I go, I wanted to mention one last thing. Leonard, there’s been an offer from New Vulcan.”

“Vulcans hate me,” Leonard says, laughing it off.

“_Spock_ doesn’t hate you,” Chris replies.

Jim suddenly stiffens. “You tell Spo—_Selek_ that he had his chance, and he had his Bones, and he isn’t getting _mine_.” His voice is very nearly a growl, and Leonard blinks up at him in confusion.

“Sarek seconded the request. Don’t forget that Leonard was the man who oversaw the treatment of the refugees from Vulcan. They have a great fondness for him for that, and their memories are long. It’s an honor to be asked, Leonard. For a community that vulnerable to ask for an outsider, to trust that outsider with their health, with their children—don’t take it lightly, that’s all I’ll say about it. And Jim, take care of the good doctor, will you?”

“He always does,” Leonard says sweetly, waiting until the transmission ends and the screen goes dark to talk to Jim.

“So, who the hell is Selek and why does he want me on New Vulcan so badly?”

“He’s old Spock. The one from the alternate universe. He was involved with the Bones of his time. They were together until Bones died.”

“Me and _Spock?!_ That’s—“

“Not _you_. Other-Bones and Other-Spock. It doesn’t have to be like that for you two.” Jim’s speaking quickly, but there’s still something in his eyes, almost fear.

“Good thing, because I’m pretty sure Nyota would kill me,” Leonard says playfully, “and I’m not leaving the man I love anyway.”

“Good. I’m still gonna yell at Old Spock later, though,” Jim informs him.

“Understood. So, does that mean you’re not going to put me to bed?” Leonard’s voice is light and innocent and Jim glares at him playfully before standing up and leading him to the bed.

“Come on, Bones, I know you need a nap.”

Leonard nods and reaches out to pull Jim into his arms, too. “Love you, Jim. Nobody else, just you. So quit worrying that I’ll up and leave you.”

Jim nods. “Just hard, when I remember how good you are at your job and how many people want you. I had to trade away two engineers and a comms officer to keep you here with me in the first place, after I got the ship, and even then, Pike stepped in and pulled a few strings.”

“You’ve never told me that.” Leonard focuses on stroking Jim’s arm, feeling the firm muscle that he’s always liked and now gets to touch whenever he wants, even for non-medical reasons.

“Thought you might be mad that I took away your chance to stay on a safe little base somewhere.”

“Given the choice, Jimmy, I am always going to choose you.” Leonard’s eyes are getting heavier, and he’s nearly asleep when he remembers Chekov. He shifts in Jim’s arms to reach for his comm and sends a message to Chekov to call anytime he needs anything, and another to Sulu to ask if he could keep an eye on Chekov awhile longer, and to order him to call if they needed Leonard around.

“He’s nineteen, not nine,” Jim murmurs against his neck, “he’ll be fine. He’s a big boy now, Bones.”

Leonard bites back the retort that has to do with how completely and utterly the boy had fallen apart in his arms during the counseling session, and just nods, letting himself drift off to sleep, one hand still clutching the comm to his chest, just in case.

\---  


_Bzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzz. _

Jim swats sleepily at Leonard’s arm. “Pick up,” he grumbles, turning over and going back to sleep.

_Hikaru Sulu: SOS, come to Pavel’s quarters._

Leonard gets up and shoves his feet into his boots, rubbing at his eyes and leaning down to kiss Jim on the temple. “Be right back, baby,” he mutters, “love you.”

He rushes over to Chekov’s quarters, finding Sulu sitting on the edge of Pavel’s bed, with the younger man thrashing around in his sheets.

“I didn’t know what to do. He won’t wake up,” Sulu says softly, and his eyes look pained as he looks at his dear friend.

Leonard nods and settles down on Chekov’s other side. “Pasha,” he says softly, “Pasha, sweetheart, it’s time to wake up. Come on, come talk to me.”

Pasha whimpers in his sleep and Leonard reaches out to lay a hand on his forehead.

“Come on, Pasha, wake up,” Leonard insists, stroking a hand through the boy’s sweaty hair.

Finally his eyes open, full of tears, and when he sees Leonard, he sits up and throws his arms around him.

Leonard just holds onto him, rocking him back and forth and shushing him softly. He remembers back to when Joanna was little, how she’d crawl into bed with him and Jocelyn, how her little hand would touch his arm and ask, in her sweet, young voice, if he could move over.

“It’s okay,” Leonard says quietly, “this is normal, therapy is exhausting, and in the beginning, it’s going to feel like this, but you were so brave, Pasha. Wasn’t he, Sulu? Did I tell you how amazing your buddy was when we were down there? Kept Jim alive, I couldn’t have asked for a better pair of hands. Now, Pasha, I took out some hypos for you in case you need them. Do you feel like taking an anti-anxiety medication? Or an anti-depressant? I’ve got sleep aids, too, so you can get some good rest without any nightmares.”

Pasha nods and Leonard awkwardly shifts him into Sulu’s arms so he can administer the hypo. “You are going to be okay, Pavel,” he says firmly, “I’m telling you that as your friend, but I’m also telling you that as a doctor. I know you are going to be okay, even if you don’t feel like it right now.”

“I’m sorry—I woke you,” Pasha says miserably, “like a baby.”

“Like a person who’s undergone significant trauma, you mean. Because if that’s what babies do, then so is Chang. And Segal. And me. And the Captain. And, worst of all, Nyota. Now, I know you don’t think she’s a baby. She’s the scariest one on this ship!”

Pasha smiles a little. “Not scary to me,” he says with a grin, “she is always nice to me.”

“Scary to me, and super-scary to Jim,” Leonard confides, “and definitely not a baby, right?”

Pasha nods, a dimple making a sudden appearance on his cheek. “Now, this is just how people react to terrifying things, that’s all. You, me, Nyota, we’re all struggling. Even Jim isn’t his normal self right now. So you just deal with your feelings, okay? Don’t hate them for existing.”

“Yes, Doktor,” Pavel agrees, “thank you for coming to see me.”

“Of course. Now, you can lay back down or get up and have a quick shower before you go back to bed. That medicine is going to make you sleepy, though, okay?”

“Shower,” Chekov mutters, getting up and stripping off his sweaty shirt shamelessly. He walks over to the bathroom and the door closes behind him.

“Keep an eye on him,” Leonard tells Sulu quietly, “the meds should help. If you need to go catch a nap or get some food or do some work, let me know and I’ll come sit with him.”

Leonard’s comm buzzes again.

_Captain James T. Kirk: Come back to bed, Bonesy._

He blushes, looking at it and then back up at Sulu. “Actually—“

“You’ve got a captain demanding your time?”

“He’s clingy at the minute,” Leonard mutters, “can’t blame him. So am I.”

“So is everyone else that was down there, as far as I can tell,” Sulu remarks carefully, “Nyota and Pasha have been talking about you a lot more than they did before. And Chang and Segal have been talking about you too, to the other security officers.”

Leonard shrugs. He could probably psychoanalyze the hell out of that increased dependence in the wake of a caretaking relationship, but he opts not to.

“Well, you know me and Jim. We’re close,” he opts to say instead, “I always fuss over him when he gets his ass kicked on some planet.”

Leonard rubs at his eyes and looks at Sulu before getting up and knocking on the bathroom door. “Pasha, I’m going to head out, okay? Comm me if you need me, kiddo.”

Pasha acknowledges him and Leonard turns to leave, already looking forward to being back in Jim’s arms. When he gets back to their quarters, though—and that’s it’s own issue, that he’s calling Jim’s quarters theirs in his head now, all of a sudden—Jim’s up and looking at a PADD.

“I’m here to come back to bed and you want to do work,” he grumbles, kicking off his boots and laying down, with his head on Jim’s thigh.

“How’s Chekov?”

“About as good as you and me were last night,” Leonard mutters, “nightmare. I gave him an anti-anxiolytic and a pep talk, and Sulu’s there with him.”

“That’s my doctor,” Jim says warmly. He pauses and puts the PADD down. “Hey Bones, did your hands shake when you gave him the hypo?”

Leonard hadn’t even thought about it, but he thinks back and… no, they hadn’t. “No,” he admits, smiling up at Jim, whose face splits into a wide grin.

“So maybe you can take a break from being super overdramatic about never operating again,” he says lightly.

Leonard puts the PADD onto the nightstand and drags Jim down into a kiss before yanking off his shirt.

\---  


Leonard wakes up deliciously sore and pressed against Jim’s warm stomach. He turns over and writes a quick comm message to Chekov to check in and one to Sulu, too, for an honest answer in case Pasha doesn’t want to worry him.

He finds an automatic reminder for his appointment with Dehner, and _shit_—had he really bit the bullet so much that he’d set it up for today?!

He sighed and looked up at Jim, who’s awake and tapping away at his PADD.

“My appointment is today,” he says quietly, “with Dehner.”

Jim’s eyes snap over to him, PADD utterly forgotten. “Today? Isn’t that a bit soon?”

Leonard shakes his head. “Yeah, but it’s always gonna feel soon,” he admits, nuzzling his head against Jim’s side, “I have a lot that needs to be processed. It’s not a contest, but it’s probably more trauma than Pasha and Nyota, and it’s going to take me some time to open up. There’s a lot to unpack. I’m probably going to need weekly sessions for at least a couple of months, if I had to guess.”

Jim lays a hand in Leonard’s hair and strokes gently, “what can I do? I want to make this easier for you.”

Leonard’s eyes water a little bit, hearing the words he’d offered to all of the others now offered to him. “Just—just be here, sugar. That’s all I need.”

Jim nods and leans down to kiss his hair. He shifts further down, too, under the covers, and slips Leonard’s boxers down to his ankles.

His beautiful lips wrap around Leonard, and for a moment, he has to imagine it, before he rips the covers back so he can see. The sight is so erotic he has to bite his lip to keep from coming embarrassingly early, as Jim starts to take more and more of him down, eyes unwavering as they hold Leonard’s gaze.

Suffice it to say, Leonard has a very good morning, and he’s whistling cheerfully on his way as he leaves Jim’s quarters and heads towards sickbay. He stops as he gets closer, the boneless relaxation of the orgasm nearly swallowed up by sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Chapel looks at him as he walks in, and something must show on his expression, because she gives him an encouraging smile. He swallows and tries to smile back at her, but it sits awkwardly on his face. He glances at the supply closet longingly, wondering if he can snag an anti-anxiolytic before he goes in. His plan B is just hiding in there until Dehner gives up on him and he can just sneak back and beg Jim to hide him forever.

He does neither of those things. He walks past the supply closet with hardly a hitch in his gait, and he doesn’t turn and run back to Jim’s arms. He comes to a standstill in front of the office door and takes a long, deep breath before knocking.

“Come in!”

He does. “Mornin’, Liz.”

“Good morning, Leonard. How are you doing?”

He shrugs ruefully, not trying to be difficult but not quite having the words to describe his own emotional state. “I wasn’t looking forward to this,” he admits quietly.

“But we get along so well,” Dehner says playfully.

Leonard feels his lips quirking upwards and he smiles at her. “Nothing to do with you, Lizzie, all to do with me. Not a fan of baring my heart for you to look at. And not a fan of the fact that I need to do that for someone who’s going to report to me in the future.”

“So you’re worried about compromising our professional relationship?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Were you concerned about Geoff and Christine treating you after you returned to the Enterprise?”

Leonard sighs and shakes his head. “I know, I know. But those were physical wounds. You know this is different. It shouldn’t be, it’s not _logical_, Spock would say, but it is, and you can’t reason me out of it.”

She nods. “You’ve treated everyone on this ship for everything from the common cold to Andorian syphilis, Leonard, and you’ve been a model professional. Trust me when I say I’m going to do my absolute best to follow that example. Besides, has there ever been a time before when I was less than discreet?”

Leonard shakes his head again. “I know. Just—I can’t help it. It is something I think about, no matter how much I don’t want to.”

She lets them sit in the pause that follows for a long moment before asking him something else.

“Eating fine, for the most part. Sleep has been poor, lots of nightmares, clear signs of post-traumatic stress, occasional vomiting in the face of emotional triggers,” Leonard lists off, hearing his own detached, clinical voice as he describes his own symptoms with no emotion whatsoever.

Liz looks at him with compassion and not pity, and Leonard’s just grateful for the distinction. “You’re talking about yourself like a patient,” she observes.

“I _am_ a patient,” he rebuts.

“Not your own patient.”

“_Physician_—well, you know. I’ve made that joke about a thousand times since we got back, even I don’t think it’s funny anymore.”

“You know, I’ll let you go if you can,” Liz says quietly, “heal yourself, I mean. Do you honestly think you can, Leonard?”

He looks up and meets her steady brown eyes. When he was still at the Academy, he would have said yes and talked about his problems in great detail to one Mr. Jack Daniels until he either passed out or needed a new liver.

Jim thinks he’s grown since then, and this is the moment to prove him right or disappoint him.

“No.”

He tells her everything. He tells her about marching through the strange alien jungle, where the plants were blue instead of green. He tells her about the feelings of Jim’s limp arm around his shoulder, carrying him with Chang’s help, constantly glancing back at Chekov and Uhura to make sure they were okay.

He tells her about standing there, nobody answering the question of who the leader was because he was too busy bleeding out against the cold stone.

He tells her about how he had looked around, at all of their faces, fear just barely visible in their eyes, and he tells her how fucking proud he had been of them all, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t step forward, how he couldn’t live with himself if they took Jim instead…

His voice shakes sometimes, cracks and breaks at others, and sometimes, the bile begins the climb up his throat before he forces himself to swallow it back down.

He tells her about how they had hit him, how he’d begged for them to kill him, and how ever since, he’s been imagining what that must have done to Jim, to hear him beg for death. He talks about how fucking ashamed he is of that moment, how it was all because of his cowardice, because he couldn’t take it anymore, not with the blood pouring out of his open wounds and his hands mangled beyond recognition.

He takes deep breaths, and once, he stands and leaves the room abruptly, coming back a moment later with an emesis bin that he promptly makes use of.

He tells her about Jim’s surgery, the first time Jim’s life had been in hands other than his own, the feeling of utter powerlessness that had drowned him, the boundless gratitude he’d had for Chekov’s performance when he couldn’t help Jim himself.

He talks and talks until two hours have elapsed and his vomit is stinking up Liz’s office, and his throat is so dry that speaking physically hurts.

“Leonard, I think we can be done for today,” Liz says kindly, offering him a drink of water and taking the emesis bin out of her office to dispose of. “Thank you so much, for what you’ve done in here today.”

There’s one final thing that Leonard wants to say, so badly that the words beat at his lips from inside his mouth, but he swallows them back against the fire in his throat.

_I’m in love with Jim. I’m in love with Jim. I love him, I love him—_

“Okay,” he agrees, standing and wiping his eyes roughly with his sleeve. He considers offering her a handshake, but he feels utterly disgusting and the thought of any touch to his hands makes him feel a little faint. So he nods at her politely, takes a deep breath, and walks out into his medbay.

He knows how he must look, and he knows his staff cares about him, and that’s why so many of them stop to give him a kind word or a squeeze of the shoulder.

Even though the only thing he wants is to lay in bed in complete and utter darkness, with Jim’s warm arms around him.

He makes his way to his own quarters—not Jim’s—and crawls into bed without so much as rinsing out his mouth or washing off his face. He just lays there, not asleep, but not _not_ asleep, until his door opens, letting light pour in for just a few seconds.

Jim sits next to him on the bed, and Leonard pulls him down weakly until Jim wraps his arms around him and holds him like the delicate, broken thing he is.

\---  


He wakes to Jim’s nose pressing gently against his neck, nuzzling against him.

“Wake up, Bonesy,” Jim whispers, “come on, starshine, you need to eat something. And I think a shower might be a good idea, get you feeling nice and fresh and yourself again.”

Leonard turns over and looks at his lover, almost smiling until he realizes exactly why physically he feels so shitty, why his eyes ache and his throat burns and his body is so terribly heavy, when he’s in bed with Jim, exactly where he wants to be.

“Do I have to?” He croaks, wincing at the way his throat works painfully to form the words, “I’m kind of happy where I am now.”

“So am I.” Jim’s voice is low, gently stroking Leonard’s arm.

“So let’s stay?”

“So let’s get you something to eat,” Jim corrects him, “right here, so you won’t have to move.”

He slips out of bed and Leonard reaches up for his wrist. “Water first. Throat hurts.”

“Course, Bones.”

He brings some sandwiches and a glass of water and a bowl of French fries with a pile of ketchup on the side.

“You know, one of these days, I might have to marry you,” Leonard says playfully, sitting up and gulping down the water. He surveys the plate, and skips the sandwiches in favor of a fry, which he dips in ketchup and offers to Jim. Jim’s eyes go wide for a moment, but he takes a bite, closing his eyes at the rich flavor. Leonard pops the rest of the fry into his own mouth.

“One of these days, I think I’d let you,” Jim says softly. Leonard’s so engrossed in eating that he forgets what that’s in response to and has to think back, and when he recalls, his face heats and he can’t quite manage to meet Jim’s eyes.

“We’d be good, Bones,” Jim continues, one hand pressed against Leonard’s thigh, “we’d take care of each other and love each other and—that’s the only thing that could make me leave this all behind.”

Leonard leans forward for a kiss, but shifts at the last minute to Jim’s cheek upon remembering the fact that his breath is probably rank.

“Tease,” Jim grumbles.

“Trust me, you’re better off this way. At least until I brush my teeth.”

“I don’t mind your morning breath, Bones!” Jim insists.

Leonard shrugs, biting into the sandwich. “It’s more than that. I got sick, a couple times during the session. It’s been happening, when there’s a trigger and I can’t manage to keep it down. So be happy I’m not swapping spit with you, or you’d be tasting bile.”

That last sentence was meant to lighten the revelation, to make it be a joke that they could laugh at. He was hoping for maybe an exaggerated sigh of relief from Jim.

So of course his stubborn captain completely ignores the joke.

“You’ve been throwing up? How often? How the hell did I not know this before? Have you done it while you were around me?”

“Do you _remember_ me puking on you lately? And no, that first shuttle ride up to Starfleet does not count.”

“You’re avoiding the question, Lieutenant Commander.” The title is said lightly, but the question is serious, and Leonard knows it.

“Only once or twice,” he admits finally, “it was under control, as I learned to process and incorporate the trauma, it would have receded, probably.”

“I’m sorry, _probably?_ Bones, this isn’t funny, this is actual real shit. Why haven’t you gone to M’Benga for something to treat this?!”

“Physi—“

Jim growls at him. “If you say _physician, heal thyself_, I’m going to walk out of here right now, and I’m not going to come back, Bones, I swear to god.”

Leonard freezes. “Physicians are the worst patients,” he says instead, very quietly, reaching out for Jim’s hand to hold.

Jim takes it and looks at him, brushing a finger against Leonard’s cheek. “I know it goes the other way most of the time, Bones, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you. I do. God, Bones, you have no _idea_ how much I worry about you.”

Leonard considers bringing up the fact that he has to save Jim’s life on a weekly basis—or that he had to, at least, before—but he knows it would serve no purpose and he doesn’t want to trivialize this. He opens his mouth to respond, but Jim’s not done yet.

“So I’ll promise to be more careful in the future. I swear, Bones, I’ll remember you and I’ll try to be more careful. I won’t let my crew get hurt, you know that, and that I don’t think I could change that if I wanted to. But I’ll be more careful. I won’t talk shit to new species we haven’t met before. I won’t flirt with any priestesses or princesses or dukes or anybody who could get us tossed into a cell. But Bones, you have _got_ to take better care of yourself too. Please. For me. I don’t care if you don’t do it for yourself. Hell, I don’t care if you can’t do it for Joanna. I just want you to do it for _me_, if that’s the only thing that can convince you.”

Leonard looks at him for a long, long moment, and leans forward, pressing a chaste, closed-mouth kiss to his lips. “I promise, Jim. No more being reckless, for either of us.”

“There’s the man I love,” Jim says softly, “now, eat a bit more and go have a shower, I think we’re going to have some company in a little bit.”

“Company? I’m not sure—“

“Trust me on this one. If you want them gone, tap my shoulder and I’ll make us an excuse. But they want to come see you.”

Leonard nods and stands up, stripping his shirt off as he heads into the bathroom. He brushes his teeth in the shower and comes out feeling like a brand new man, albeit one whose eyes are still burning.

He sits on the sofa and lets Jim fuss over him and feed him and make sure he drinks water and eats fruit and skips coffee.

The bell rings a few minutes later, and Jim tells the computer to open the door. Leonard makes a nominal effort to shift over on the sofa so they don’t look as much like lovers.

Chekov is standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot while he holds a pack of playing cards.

“Pasha!” Leonard says warmly, sitting up, “come in! How are you doing, kiddo? Were you alright with Sulu for the rest of last night? I told him to let me know if you needed anything—“

“Leonard, please,” Pasha’s blushing a little, “I did not come because I need comfort. I come to try to make you feel better. Happier, maybe.”

Leonard smiles as the young man pulls a chair in close. “That’s very sweet of you, son. Thank you for thinking of me.”

Pasha shrugs. “You are always helping me. I want to help you, if I can.”

“Yeah? You wanna help me by robbing me of all the credits I own?” Leonard teases, gesturing at the cards, “deal me in, kid.”

“Are you staying too, Keptin?”

Jim smiles at their young navigator. “I’m definitely not going anywhere now, might get to see Bones lose for once!”

“Kid, I’ve been playing poker since before Chekov was born, back when you were still in diapers, Captain.”

Jim grins and leans forward, sharing a look of mischief with Chekov. “Don’t you listen to our good doctor, now, Pasha. He’s only three years older than me! And I’m not the gorgeous young thing I used to be when I was your age, either.”

Leonard looks him up and down, letting an extra drawl into his voice. “Oh yeah, Jim, you’ve really let it all go, haven’t you? All old and withered. You’ll still be gorgeous when you’re old and fat and gray, you lucky bastard.”

Chekov looks between the two of them and just grins.

Poker is fun. Chekov definitely earns enough to make Jim pout, but he gets cocky on the last round and Leonard takes it all.

“See, age before beauty, it works almost every time!”

“Unfair, you have age _and_ beauty, starshine,” Jim mutters. It’s not quiet enough that Chekov doesn’t hear, and the boy turns pink.

He looks between the two of them for a few seconds, clearly trying to formulate a question.

“How long—are you two—when?”

“After we got back, yes, and… after we got back, son,” Leonard says, shooting Jim a shy little smile. “We didn’t want it to be all over the crew, but, well—I don’t care, really. Not like I’m ashamed of him.”

“I don’t care either, Bones.” Jim intertwines their fingers and leans in to press a kiss to Leonard’s cheek. “Pavel, you don’t have to tell everybody as soon as you get out of here, buddy, okay? But if it slips out, it slips out. Not like Scotty doesn’t already have a betting pool going.”

“What? No he doesn’t. Does he? Pasha, please tell me you didn’t—“

Pavel blushes brighter. “No, I—I did, but I would lose. I said you were together since the Academy. I believe Hikaru got it right. Though if I could have gotten a bet through while I was down on the planet, I would win. The keptin is always happier when you are there, Leonard. Always. On the bridge, we see, the difference between when you are there and when you are not.”

“Go on, then, tell them whenever you want, Pasha, but make Hikaru split the winnings, because he wouldn’t have gotten them without you.” Leonard is smiling when he looks at him, though.

Pasha beams at them both, his clever eyes catching the subtle way they’re leaning against each other, Jim’s arm casually thrown around the back of the sofa so his hand is just behind Leonard’s neck, the single plate and glass on the table. He doesn’t stay much longer, either because he feels awkward, or he wants to tell the whole ship the news.

Leonard sinks right back against Jim’s side as soon as he’s gone, turning to kiss him. “Starshine, Jim, really?” he teases, “at least I was _pretending_ we weren’t together!”

“’You’ll be gorgeous when you’re old and gray, Jim.’ Was that you pretending, because you’re not very good at it, Bonesy!”

Leonard can’t really argue when it’s true so he just grins and pulls Jim in for a kiss. “Everyone knows you’re beautiful, Jim, it wasn’t like it was a secret or something.”

“So? By now, everyone knows we’re dating, too.”

At that, Leonard just has to pull Jim back in. Anything to shut him up.

\---  


They’re still laying on the sofa when the door chime rings again, talking and kissing lazily whenever they feel like it.

Jim curses and stands up, leaning down to straighten Leonard’s hair for him so it doesn’t look so mussed. “I can’t believe I let you distract me,” he mutters, “are we good?”

“I think so? Who is it? Were you expecting someone? Just send them away, sugar—”

Jim opts not to answer the question and opens the door. Nyota is standing there, Spock half a step behind her.

“Leo!” she says warmly, crossing the room and bending to pull him into a hug, “I heard today was your first day, I figured you could use a bit of company, a friendly face.”

“He had a friendly face, Uhura, I’ve been with him all day,” Jim complains halfheartedly, pulling up another chair for Spock.

“Your appointment today must have been grueling, Doctor. If at any point, you would prefer for us to leave you to rest, simply let us know,” Spock says.

“No, please, stay. We were just going to—“ Leonard looks over at Jim. He hadn’t know if they had any plans, actually, other than making out on the sofa until it got heated enough to move over to the bed.

“We were about to pick what we’d like for dinner,” Jim fills in flawlessly, “please, will you join us? I know Scotty’s altered the replicator so we can have plomeek soup for you, Spock, if you’d like. Bones is having—babe? Roast chicken with potatoes and salad?”

“That sounds good,” Leonard admits, realizing for the first time that he actually is hungry.

“I’ll have the same as Leonard, Jim, if that’s all right,” Nyota says politely.

“And I’ll have a burger—“

“How about a veggie burger?” Leonard suggests, “it’s healthier.”

“If today wasn’t your day, I wouldn’t agree to that. You can’t turn it off, can you? Always trying to make me healthier.” Jim comes back with a veggie burger and a plate of sweet potato fries, absently shifting half of his fries to Leonard’s plate in exchange for a few of his potatoes.

“If you’re trying to fatten me up, Jimmy—“

“You do look a little undernourished, Doctor—about 6.4 pounds lighter, if I am not mistaken.”

“Yeah, Leo, you’re thinner than you were before.”

“Okay, okay! I didn’t ask for three mother hens on board this ship,” Leonard says with a laugh, “and maybe I haven’t had as much of an appetite, but it’s because I’m not allowed to do anything, remember? No physical activity, it’s not like I’m trying to cut back, here. I just don’t need what I needed before.”

Jim wraps an arm around him. “Spock, see if we can get a physical therapist to come aboard for a little while. That’ll get your metabolism back to where it used to be, Bones. Plus, I _like_ your stupidly muscular arms.”

Nyota looks between the two of them for a second, a slow smile creeping across her face. “That’s good, then,” she says softly, “it was getting old, watching you pine. And Jim, Leo was so devastated when you weren’t talking to him. He asked me—“

“Ny,” Leonard says quietly, “we don’t need to get into that, do we?”

“Asked you what?” Jim asks curiously.

“He asked me and Spock to look after you, make sure you were okay,” Nyota shoots Leonard an apologetic look, but the man just shrugs.

“Somebody had to,” he mumbles, “and you weren’t talking to me.”

“You were fine, though, you had everybody else coming in and visiting you and hanging out with you all the time. You didn’t—you didn’t need me.”

For once, Leonard is actually lost for words. All he can do is turn and look at Jim, really look at him. Didn’t _need_ him? How could Jim even _think_ that? He almost wants to grab Jim by the shoulders and shake him.

He remembers that first time after the fight, when Jim had called him Bones again, had filled that gap inside him that he hadn’t even known existed.

“But you’re together now, boys,” Nyota interjects, coughing a little, “and you’re happy, and you’re very cute together, isn’t that right, Spock?”

“I do not believe that Jim and Leonard meet the criteria for being called “cute” as they are both adul—“ He cuts off abruptly as he takes a pointy shoe in the shin. “You are both clearly well suited for each other, as Nyota said.”

“I knew you would agree, Spock,” Nyota says pleasantly.

Leonard nearly chokes on his laughter, and Jim doesn’t even try to suppress his.

Nyota catches Leonard’s eye and smiles just subtly, clearly proud of herself.

“I’m almost jealous,” Jim mutters, “you’re the first people to make him laugh today.”

“What? I’ve laughed before!”

“Not today,” Jim says quietly, “I noticed.”

“Well, I’ve been asleep most of the day today,” Leonard teases.

Jim looks at him, and whatever he sees in Leonard’s face, it’s enough to make him drop the topic.

Nyota steps in, with all the grace that makes her such a brilliant communications officer. She facilitates the conversation, makes sure that it stays light, makes sure that it doesn’t go quiet for too long.

They eat dinner, and then Leonard goes back to leaning against Jim on the sofa, and Jim goes right back to having an arm wrapped around him tight, as if he can’t bear for there to be any space between them.

“Tell me the story of how you and Jim met again,” he asks Nyota, lips quirking upwards, “it always made me smile, how he could get anyone into bed, but you were the one he liked the most, and he couldn’t get you.”

“Didn’t like her most,” Jim corrects, “no offense, Ny, you were always near the top, but—it was always _you_, Bones. From pretty early on. You were the one that got away.”

“Didn’t do a great job of it, did I?” Leonard says archly, “and you don’t have to flatter me, Jim.”

“He’s not.” Nyota looks at the two of them, a hint of surprise in her eyes. “Leo, he was always looking at you that way, like he was desperate to get your attention. Always touching you—I can’t tell you how many times I saw _this_ move—“ she looks pointedly at the arm around Leonard’s shoulders, “and it’s not like he didn’t flirt with you.”

“Okay, okay, I get it! I was dumb as hell, Jim, I didn’t deserve to have you back then.”

“You were _both_ pretty dumb,” Nyota says coyly, “I thought you both deserved each other, all through the Academy.”

“That’s okay,” Leonard says, grinning and pulling Jim even closer. “We might be stupid, but at least we’re pretty, right, sugar?”

“Doctor, you are one of the most accomplished physicians in Starfleet, and the Captain is the youngest person to have ever attained that rank. I hardly think the word ‘stupid’ applies to either of you—“ Spock says suddenly.

“Aww, thanks, Spock,” Leonard says, “I love you too, bud.”

Spock draws in a breath to respond.

“He’s kidding,” Nyota says quickly, “he meant it platonically. He isn’t making a move on you in front of me and Jim, Spock.”

Spock nods once, still looking a little perplexed. “In that case, I respect you too, Leonard.”

Jim wipes away a pretend tear. “My two favorite boys, finally getting along!”

Leonard pokes him in the side as retaliation.

The conversation continues that way, with Nyota teasing the pair of them, both of them flirting (mostly with each other, but occasionally with Uhura, too, though they always clarify that they’re just joking), and Spock occasionally interjects with a dry remark.

Jim walks them back to the door.

“I didn’t even know that Spock could joke like that. Or I guess I did, but I thought it was just with you and Nyota,” Leonard remarks, letting Jim ease him up onto his feet and nudge him back towards the bed.

“I’m not kidding, Bonesy, he really does like you.” Jim curls up next to him, one hand stroking Leonard’s side.

“I know. I like him too, deep down.”

They settle down, letting the silence fill them up and lull them off to drowsiness.

“You really thought I liked Nyota the best out of anyone at the Academy?”

“You were obsessed, I thought. I knew it was just a playful thing, eventually, but at first, I really thought you wanted her. I don’t know, it was this mix of wanting her approval, to make up for that first meeting, and then wanting her to want you, to show her that she wasn’t as cool as she acted. But—“

“But you didn’t see that I was hanging out with you every single night and every single day? Flirting with you and being all over you?”

Leonard pauses, trying to think of a way to describe it. “I never liked using microscopes in college,” he says abruptly, “before I got the vision correcting surgery in med school, it strained my eyes a lot. I always used to zoom in too much. I needed to zoom out. Took me ages to get good at pathology. You can’t see things that clearly when you’re so close to them, Jim.”

Jim pauses a moment. “I like picturing you as a college kid. My cute baby Bones. Did you have glasses?”

“Yeah. Big, thick ones, they made the microscope even more hellish. You can ask my mom to see all the baby pictures when we get back to Earth, she’ll be happy to show you.”

They talk about old memories for a little ewhile, the ones that aren’t painful to remember, until Leonard’s almost dozing.

“Hey, Bones? I think I was a little too zoomed in, too.”

“We’re both myopic sons of bitches. Probably a holy miracle that we got our shit together, even if it took us five years.”

Jim presses a kiss to his neck, and they drift off to sleep.

\---  


Subsequent sessions are better, but that isn’t to say that they’re good, and Leonard comes back drained nearly every time. Jim always spends time with him on those days, and sometimes Sulu or Scotty come in, or Pasha or Nyota or Spock, or some combination thereof. Some of his medical staff comes by, too, though he has to remind Christine to stop looking at him like a patient when he’s not in medbay. He also talks to M’Benga about some of the symptoms he’d been brushing off, and gets a low dose anti-anxiolytic to take daily.

Jim takes a lot longer to bite the bullet and actually go to his appointment. When he comes back, his eyes aren’t red, but his jaw is so tense Leonard thinks for a moment that he might crack a tooth.

Leonard pushes him down against the mattress and lets Jim pull him down into a furious, desperate kiss. He shifts down and takes Jim into his mouth and goes slow and steady as he opens Jim up. Every time Jim looks at him, there’s this terrible pain in his eyes, as if he’s bracing himself for the most painful loss he could ever imagine, and it rips Leonard’s heart into a million tiny pieces.

He pushes into him, not letting Jim pressure him into going hard and fast, making him slow down, until it’s agonizing for both of them. When Jim finally climaxes, it drags Leonard over the edge too. When they lay together, sweaty and sticky, Jim’s muscles are wonderfully loose, and Leonard touches the hinge of his jaw, feeling the tension there finally abate.

“I love you, Jim. I love you. I love you. I love you,” Leonard whispers, over and over. Jim’s shaking as he clings to him, and if there’s a new wetness against Leonard’s neck as the only sound between them is Jim’s ragged breathing, then neither of them says anything. Leonard brings him his favorite food, and they make love another three times that day before Jim finally lets go enough to sleep.

He wakes screaming three separate times, when Leonard holds his shivering lover in trembling arms, he regrets the day they ever beamed down to that godforsaken planet.

For the first time, Leonard’s afraid of getting back to Earth. He almost doesn’t want to leave what he has on the Enterprise. It’s this strange shelter from time, living with Jim in the throes of a newly admitted love, working on themselves and for once, not worrying that Jim was going to die on some strange planet surrounded by aliens and fallen crewmembers.

The last week passes far too quickly. Pasha comes to him more and more, and they actually rehearse lines in Russian that Leonard can say to Pasha’s family. Jim starts getting clingier, and they spend more time in their quarters and less out in the rest of the ship. He’s afraid too, Leonard realizes, afraid of seeing his mother, afraid that Leonard might not ever be able to serve as his CMO again.

Leonard is afraid too.

But eventually, the day comes, and the ship docks at the Lunar Spacedock, and they disembark and get on the shuttle to go back down to Starfleet.

He holds Jim’s hand on the shuttle, and he finds himself staring longingly at the smooth silver nacelles of the Enterprise through the window.

When the shuttle door opens, they’re greeted with camera flashes, shouted questions from the press, and when they squint, the small crowd of family and friends who’ve been relegated to the back.

Leonard inhales, feels the faint pressure of Jim’s hand at the small of his back, and steps forward.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't edited this as rigorously as I could have, so I suspect it probably drags on a little too long. Please forgive any typos or grammar mistakes, as I'm sure there are a bunch in here. 
> 
> I envision a third part to this series (likely the conclusion), which would pick up right around where this one leaves off. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, let me know! I love to read comments and they mean the world to me, so if you'd like to say something, please do!


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